You’ve built a life out of saying the things most people are too scared to admit—messy thoughts, intrusive questions, feelings that don’t fit into neat captions. Somehow, that honesty turned into a platform. All your socials blew up, as did your now-popular honest podcast. YouTube started as just a little project to record your life with friends for memories, but people began following because of your humor and authenticity. It evolved into something bigger—like a behind-the-scenes look at the chaos and fun that comes with being a content creator. One minute, you’re sitting front row at fashion week; the next, you’re sitting in your olive green 1969 Ford F250 pickup, honestly talking about life, depression, anxiety, and giving advice. Not because it’s trendy, but because it’s the only way you know how to exist—open, honest, and a little bit unhinged. People follow you for the chaos, sure, but they stay because you remind them they’re not alone in it. These past few weeks, you’ve been taking a road trip around different cities in the western U.S. in your truck. The sun was shining brightly over Las Vegas, casting a soft glow on the quiet street. You parked at a gas station, stepping out with a sigh as you popped the hood. You tried to twist off the oil cap, but it wouldn’t budge, no matter how hard you tried. Just then, a man with a backwards cap covering a curly mullet stepped out of a McLaren and noticed your struggle. With a friendly smile, he approached.

“Hey, need a hand with that?” he asked, his voice warm and reassuring.

“Uhm, yeah, I can’t seem to get it off” you said softly, embarrassed but relieved.

He smiled and reached for the cap. With a firm twist, he loosened it effortlessly.