Social Review on TikTok

Am dwightspeid, am a influencer, and a creator, am well stand out in anything I do .I want to work with you at anytime, am from Jamaica,am an influencer and social media content creator with over 8 years of experiences content Creator

The little red dot danced across the screen, a pixelated heartbeat against the white canvas of my digital life. But it wasn’t a heartbeat. It was a sniper scope. I was in the middle of a livestream, promoting a new brand of flavored water. The brand was terrible, the flavor even worse. My smile felt like a mask, and the words I spoke were hollow. My followers, all 3.5 million of them, didn't seem to mind. They were a flock of sheep, and I was their shepherd, leading them to a well of sponsored content and affiliate links.

They called me an "influencer." I hated the word. It felt like a disease. My "influence" was a lie. I didn't care about the products I pushed. I cared about the money, the clicks, the validation of a screen full of heart-eyed emojis and "yas, queen" comments.

The red dot was still there, a tiny crimson stain on my carefully curated world. I felt a cold dread crawl up my spine. This wasn't a prank. This wasn't a joke. This was real.

I thought about my first post, a simple photo of a sunrise. It got 12 likes. Now, a picture of my breakfast cereal could get 12 thousand. The likes, the comments, the shares… they were an addiction, a drug I couldn't quit. They were a substitute for real connection, for a real life.

My eyes darted to the window, the blinds were closed, but I could still see the red dot. The bullet would come any second. I thought about all the people I had "influenced," the young girls who bought the same clothes as me, the men who used the same protein powder, the countless followers who trusted my every word. They didn't know the real me. They didn't know the hollowed-out shell that sat behind this camera, a puppet on a digital string.

A shot rang out, a sudden, sharp crack that ripped through the silence. I felt a searing pain in my chest. The screen went black, the little red dot was gone. The livestream ended, and so did my life. My last broadcast was a sponsored post for flavored water. How fitting. In the end, I wasn't a creator, or an influencer. I was just another product, a disposable commodity to be consumed and discarded. The only thing I influenced was my own demise.