It’s me sitting on the bathroom floor at 1:17 a.m., eating cold pasta from a takeout box, replaying a conversation from five years ago. It’s the second phone in my drawer — not for cheating, but for writing poetry I’ll never publish. It’s the playlist of songs that would ruin my “brand” if anyone saw. It’s the voice notes I record and delete, just to hear someone say my name the way I wish the world would.

But my secret life? That’s the grainy, unpolished footage I never post.

No one knows about the life I live between midnight and 3 a.m. They see the version of me who smiles in meetings, who laughs at jokes on time, who remembers birthdays and pays bills. That’s the highlight reel. That’s the public POV.