SENA'S POV
"And that's all, my loves. See you in another video." With a final wave and blown kiss to the camera, I end the recording and let out a contented sigh. Yet another video was completed. I lean back against my comfy chair and review the footage, making sure it's up to my standards before scheduling it for upload. Okay, it is good; the hours spent scripting, filming, and editing were all worth it in the end.
I glance at the clock on the wall and realize that I've been filming for hours. Time always seems to slip away when I'm busy creating content, but it's fine; I love what I do. I don't know what I could be doing if being an influencer wasn't my career. I mean, I would have probably carried on my medical studies and saved lives, but that's not what I wanted and I would have become one of those doctors who just go through the motions without true passion. No, this, right here, talking to my followers, sharing my thoughts and experiences, is where I feel alive.
Apart from my family breathing down my neck for not choosing the conventional path of a medical career, like my two older siblings and the rest of my relatives, I've never once regretted my decision to pursue a career as an influencer. Sure, I doubted myself at the start of it all, wondering if I was really that creative and inspiring of a person to make a career out of sharing my life online. But it was, in fact, through those doubts that I got to understand myself more. And then I realized that perhaps I wasn't meant to save lives, only to touch them in a different way, one video at a time.
I stretch my arms above my head, feeling the satisfying crack in my back along with the exhaustion creeping in. Creating content is exhilarating, but it's also draining. I make a mental note to take a break after this and treat myself to something nice—a bubble bath, maybe, or a cozy evening with a book.
I reach for my phone, instinctively checking for any notifications. The screen lights up with messages from fans, friends, and collaborators. It's always heartwarming to see the positive feedback and messages of support, but right now, I crave solitude. So, turning off my phone's notifications, I make my way out of my room and head to the kitchen to make myself a quick snack. I'm kinda starving.
I shuffle over to the coffee maker and start brewing a fresh pot before rummaging through the pantry, searching for something quick to munch on. My eyes land on a bag of crunchy granola bars, and I grab one, tearing it open with a satisfying rip. This is the only thing I've been eating for the past few days along with some fruits and vegetables. It's easy and convenient since I'm a pretty bad cook, but it's also helping me stay in shape and not gain those dreaded "influencer 15" pounds. However, I'd like to eat something that satisfies not just my hunger but also my soul sometimes.
When my coffee is ready, I sit down at the kitchen table and open my laptop. My schedule is packed—brand deals, upcoming collaborations, video ideas, and whatnot. There's a dinner party tonight that I must attend because Steph made sure to highlight it and even put exclamation points next to it on our shared calendar. I think I know why; I missed a similar event last month because I was sick and forgot to RSVP in time, leaving Steph to handle the apologies and explanations. She was not happy about it, to say the least, and she made sure to remind me of it several times since then.
Steph is both my best friend and my manager, she's the one person in my life who's not afraid of putting me in my place when I'm being a brat, and the one person that loves me unconditionally and always has my best interests at heart. She also has an immaculate style and makes me look so freaking good in front of the camera. I'm lucky to have her in my corner.
When I'm done checking my schedule and replying to some emails and messages, I close my laptop and head to the bathroom to freshen up for the evening ahead. I turn on some calming music and get inside the bathtub that I filled with warm water and bath oils that probably cost more than my monthly grocery bill. But hey, a girl needs to treat herself sometimes, right? I, of course, take pictures of the setting and post the best one on my story along with the brand tagged big and bold. Kind of the equivalent of a virtual thank-you note.
"Oh, yeah," I mutter, closing my eyes as I feel my body relaxing against the warm water. This, this is exactly what I needed. I scroll through my account, reading people's comments, some good, some bad, and do I care? Yes, I do. I sometimes say I don't care about the hate comments, but the truth is, they still sting. It's hard not to take criticism personally when you put so much of yourself out there for the world to see. But I don't delete them or block anyone, they're just there, reminding me that not everyone will appreciate or understand what I do. And that's okay. I've come to accept that not everyone will be a fan, and that's just a part of being in the public eye.
There are a lot of posts of other influencers and celebrities and Gosh, do I feel the pressure sometimes. It's easy to get caught up in comparisons, wondering if I'm doing enough, if I'm successful enough, if I'm enough. I'll always struggle with those thoughts from time to time. I'll always be my own harshest critic.
"Senny?" The sound of the front door opening and the nickname make me smile. It's Steph, returning from her errands. She's the only one who calls me "Senny," a childhood nickname that has stuck with me through the years.
"Yeah, I'm here," I call from the bathtub and she walks into the bathroom, carrying a couple of shopping bags. The look she gives me makes me shrug and I smile, eyeing the bags to see what she's brought. Steph always finds the perfect items, whether it's for an event, a video shoot, or just to brighten up my day.
"Living the good life I see." She sets the bags at the door and walks to me, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. "I got you the dress you were stalking online last week. Figured you might want to wear it to tonight's dinner."
My eyes light up at the mention of the dress and I sit up slightly in the bathtub, the warm water sloshing around me. "You got it? Oh, Steph, you're the best. Don't tell me you also got the limited edition heels to go with it-" She laughs, a sound that's become as familiar and comforting as the warmth of the bath around me. Then she reaches into one of the shopping bags and pulls out a shoebox adorned with a ribbon. I gasp theatrically, taking the box from her hands. "You didn't!"
She nods with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "Open it."
I eagerly tear the ribbon and open the box to reveal the stunning pair of limited edition heels that I've been eyeing for weeks. They're even more beautiful than I imagined, and I can't help but let out a delighted squeal, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. "They are so beautiful, I'm definitely going to wear them tonight. Steph, you're the most amazing person I've ever met in my life. I'm no longer going to complain about having to attend that dinner party tonight. But wait, how did you get your hands on them?"
She smirks, leaning back against the bathroom counter like the perfect man you'd read about in those romance novels. "Trade secrets. Let's just say I have connections in high places." I roll my eyes at her words but I can't hide the fact that she really makes me feel like a million bucks.
After hours of getting ready and taking pictures to post later tonight, Steph and I are heading to the party dinner in my father's Ferrari. Don't ask how he got one of the most sought-after cars; it's just one of those perks of being the sponsor of a Formula 1 team. Not that I'm interested in cars or racing; I'm more of a fashion and lifestyle kind of girl. But I can't deny the attention it gets when we arrive at the venue.
Everyone's eyes are on Steph and me as we make our way inside and through the crowd. It's a luxury brand event that a lot of celebrities are supposed to attend and I can't help but feel a flutter in my chest at the excitement. "Senaaaa!" I hear my name being called out over the music, and I turn to see my influencer friends waving enthusiastically from across the room. With a smile, I make my way over to them, greeting each one with hugs and air kisses.
"You guys look amazing tonight," I exclaim, taking in their stylish outfits and flawless makeup. Everyone looks stunning, so, so stunning. I love it when I meet other influencer girlies who love dressing up and putting effort into their looks as much as I do.
"You're practically glowing, Senna, and those heels, girl!" One of them says and I look at Steph and, raising my eyebrows in amusement. My fairy godmother. It's all thanks to her.
After hundreds of pictures taken with different public figures, I excuse myself and go to the bathroom to quickly fix my makeup and freshen up. The bathroom is surprisingly quiet when I step inside and I take out my phone to post a quick Instagram story when I hear people coming. "Oh my God, did you see her? Coming in a Ferrari as if she owns the place," I overhear someone whispering outside the bathroom door and I know damn well it's the same girl who told me I was glowing a few minutes ago. "And did you see the dress and those shoes? She's trying way too hard to show off her daddy's money."
My heart sinks to the ground. It's not the first time I've faced such comments, but it never fails to sting. It never fails to remind me that some people are real hypocrites. That, in fact, I should trust no one other than myself in this industry.
So I just suck in a breath, stop the tears before they can even form, and quickly type in the words before posting a new story on my social media. Best night ever.