DASHING

I’ve gone (kinda) viral before

What’s the point of numbers when all you are is a blip in someone’s day?

Originally published in TheDiarist.Ph

What does it even mean to become viral nowadays?

In a world full of inflated numbers, bought followers, and AI-generated comments powered by bots, how has social media changed the way we perceive fame and virality? Can we even consider someone who’s gone viral as “famous?”

In the past, it was who was on magazines, billboards, and walking the red carpet. Now going viral can look like a 20something sitting in bed, yapping about a niche hobby with a Japanese planner in hand. With an unwashed face and bangs an absolute mess, I look far from the polished, elegant celebrities we’ve come to think of as famous. I hate to think that over 100,000 people have seen me in that state, and I loathe the idea that I’m even “famous” at all for this.

What put this situation in perspective for me were the people around me saying, “Don’t forget me when you’re famous!” Because this makes me wonder, how often does this happen to everyone?

Not to brag (okay, maybe a little bit), but this isn’t my first time having a video go “viral” on TikTok, much less my first time seeing five-digits in a social media site. When I was younger, a professor put horrendous comments on our papers in bold-red pen, and then failed our entire class. I’d tweeted about the experience (names redacted but not my university), and it reached up to 15,000 interactions before I shut it down.

I remember the dizzying feeling of being swept up in the self-induced frenzy that it had caused—how block mates were noting it, and how I was the one obsessively watching the numbers go up every hour the day after I posted those tweets. I remember getting called into the Dean’s office to discuss this situation, then being gaslit into believing that I was in the wrong when the evidence was right there in the tweets. After 48 hours, I was too tired to make heads-or-tails of it all and decided to delete the tweets. I even remember my inbox being a mixed bag of support from people with similar experiences of a power-tripping professor, and of vitriolic messages calling me “balat sibuyas.”  Scarred by the experience, I needed another four years before making a new account on the site.

Even now I hesitate to put myself out there on the internet. I’d seen, first-hand, what it was like for people to take something you say and reduce your entire being into words on a screen. You were not a person behind those tweets, but just a catalyst to bring out their anger, a sponge to absorb their own trauma.

The landscape and culture of the internet has changed since 2017, and I can’t imagine how much worse it must be now, with the world being so polarized.

Our feeds are now our own little bubbles

One of the main changes I’ve observed is that our feeds are now our own little bubbles. To be influential in one sphere might mean obscurity in another. The algorithm is our god lest we get swept away on the wave of obscurity by other people’s posts. In the past, making something for the masses was the goal to reach fame. But now it’s about creating something that resonates with a certain type of person on the internet. Are you a stationary fiend who needs someone who reviews specific types of paper and stickers on Instagram? A middle-aged mom who scrolls Facebook only for funny videos after getting home from work? What about a chronically online gremlin looking for content beneath the waters of the internet iceberg?

For as long as you create something that will resonate with one of the many kinds of people out there, you might find yourself with 100,000+ views within the year.

But, to someone who’s seen numbers as big as those, what does it all matter in the end? I used to think that being viral meant I’d be stopped in the hallways of my alma mater for a picture, or I’d be harassed on the street for a bad take. But that’s not happened (yet).

What’s the point of numbers when all you are is a blip in someone’s day? I look at my own scrolling experience, and it takes a number of a single creator’s videos for me to remember their face, let alone their face on TikTok. My videos, like so many others, are just blips in a person’s day, to be consumed then forgotten with a swipe of a finger.

One of my favorite internet personalities, Ludwig, notes that he’s rarely ever recognized. Mind you, he has YouTube channels with subscriber counts in the millions. He’s said that the most he’s felt like a traditional celebrity is during one weekend a year, when he goes to Twitchcon (an annual convention where all things Twitch/streamer-related gather), and that at any other time he’s just some regular guy. That insight really put things in perspective for me, that someone as big as he is big only in that specific niche of the internet.

Take it from the girl whose TikTok videos get a surprising amount of views. It really isn’t all that it’s touted out to be. I wake up on the same bed, eat the same food, and live life as if my videos weren’t even a thing. Nothing has changed besides the fact that my titas now get to say during brunch, “OMG Did you know that Nina’s got 100k views on her TikTok?”

@nine_nahhh

saw all the talk about the hobonichi on my fyp and I NEEDED to talk about it 😭 don’t mind the haggard AF look I literally jwu and needed to talk about this ———— #hobonichi #hobonichitecho #hobonichiweeks #stationary #planner #planner2025

♬ original sound – nine_nah

Funny enough, it does make one feel like living a double life. There are people in the world who see me as the “hobonichi de-influencing girl,” or “the girl who asked Stray Kids a question.” To know that there are different parts of my life that people can see me for, it’s a feeling I’m still trying to come to terms with even now. Because how do you sit with yourself and all the identities you’ve come to collect over time? There’s a Nina working, a Nina at events (and a different kind, too, depending on the type of event), and more.

I, at least, know what I am not though. I am by no means a social media expert nor an accomplished content creator. Views are one thing, but to genuinely touch someone’s life and make a positive change is another. I refuse to get swept up in the hubbub of trying to see bigger numbers. I want to continue creating content and to continue to build my identity online in a way that makes me happy. I’m not trying to be famous or viral (been there, done that). I just want to keep up this silly little hobby of mine, see where it takes me, and hopefully make someone’s day better. But that’s me!

I think back to the 13-year-old Nina who had no friends

I think back to the 13-year-old Nina who had no friends, whose escape was YouTubers who played video games that quelled the ache of loneliness in my chest; the ones who kept me going and made me feel like I wasn’t weird given the interests I had or the way I spoke. The things that I create are for that Nina and anyone else who could relate.

So, here’s to her for making it through the hard times, so that the present Nina could live to create content for others like her.

Nina Roxas

She is a fresh graduate of the Communications Arts program at DLSU-Manila. She's got too many thoughts, hobbies, and way too little time to do it all.

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