TikTok takes over tumultuous teenage life during unhealthy mental breakdown

What do normal people do when they have a mental breakdown? Perhaps they drink a cup of tea. Perhaps they write in their journal. Maybe they listen to some relaxing music or watch The Great British Baking Show. Maybe they talk to their friends or call a loved one. Now, it’s pretty safe to say, based on the existence of this article, that I do none of the above things.

During my finals season and 104-degree-fever-fueled work spurt at the end of the semester, a mental breakdown was inevitable. As expected, my response was to create a TikTok in hopes that I would accidentally become famous, earn enough money to graduate early and live in that elusive section of Beverly Hills in which all the retired Vine stars seem to hide out.

TikTok confuses me—yet it intrigues me at the same time. How does one become famous? It all seems extremely accidental. My personal favorite depicts a man in a bathrobe crying on top of a refrigerator. It’s a six-second video clip possessing over 100,000 likes. Why? Why is that such a relatable mood? Why did it get so famous?

The day of my mental breakdown was a strange one. I woke up, went to class, took a nap, made a split second decision to pierce my ear, then forgot the entire plan, bought shoes, cried, ate several bread slices and went to bed. Although I don’t remember when or how, I made a gem of a TikTok along the way.

In hopes to become TikTok famous, my response was to record my mascara-smeared face jamming along to the first fifteen seconds of Mo Bamba (the Skrillex remix edition, of course. Have to keep it classy and edgy!). My jump-cuts and transitions were a little shaky, but all-in-all, I thought it was pretty good. However, much to my dismay, TikTok fame has not yet been thrust upon me.

What more must I do? I conducted ex.  ensive research on many famous TikTokers. I have several paths to choose from: a tall and sad white boy who wears beanies and looks like he hasn’t slept in five months, a retired Vine star that has somehow made the transition to TikTok semi-successfully, the grown adult who makes funny faces to make up for actual humor, an e-girl with bangs who draws hearts on her face with Kat Von D eyeliner, someone who squirts a spray bottle at the camera for the aesthetic or someone who does straight-faced Fortnite dances ironically.

If TikToking my mental breakdown doesn’t blow up and make me at least six figures by February, I’ll have to find another way to TikTok fame. I originally planned to settle on being an e-girl, but I’ve tried bangs twice, and neither time has worked out for me—my face shape isn’t right, and I have an insane cowlick. Although I’ve been practicing my Fortnite dances religiously every day, I still can’t figure out how to exactly do the default dance, so, that option is out as well (I suck at doing the running man, and I have the rhythm of a chicken).

I could always be one of those TikTokers that does the impressive edits, but I have neither the time nor the money nor the patience for one of those fancy ring lights or a semi-presentable finished product.

So, for now, I am going to stick to the hope that someone finds my gem of a TikTok funny and that somehow, in the near future, it blows up and I can make a Patreon so that random strangers give me money. With said money, I can further my TikTok career and quit school and maybe finally find out where all those retired Vine and Musical.ly stars went after Vine and Musical.ly died. To my family and friends, don’t worry, I’ll still remember you when I’m so famous that I can finally afford those Louis Vuitton airpods that just came out or maybe buy that Supreme crowbar that I’ve been hearing so much about.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

The Miscellany News reserves the right to publish or not publish any comment submitted for approval on our website. Factors that could cause a comment to be rejected include, but are not limited to, personal attacks, inappropriate language, statements or points unrelated to the article, and unfounded or baseless claims. Additionally, The Misc reserves the right to reject any comment that exceeds 250 words in length. There is no guarantee that a comment will be published, and one week after the article’s release, it is less likely that your comment will be accepted. Any questions or concerns regarding our comments section can be directed to Misc@vassar.edu.