This weekend, I went viral on TikTok. Like, really viral. Like, number one video for a sound with 90k videos under it viral. Like, 2 million views viral. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough.
It’s too much. On Friday night, I hopped on a TikTok trend and thought nothing of it. I expected my immediate circle of friends to see the video and maybe a few strangers. The video was riddled with inside jokes and memories shared by me and my friends, as they were the intended audience. However, now I find myself in a place where I have to explain all of these jokes and memories to a massive amount of people on the internet who want to be in on the joke too.
2 million people saw the video. In the span of one weekend, 2 million people saw my face. That number is really difficult to conceptualize. I cannot help but feel a bit freaked out by that quantity.
But at the same time, it’s not enough. At the end of the day, my video is only one of millions of viral TikToks. People will completely forget about my video in a few days—if they have not forgotten about it already. Most of the people who liked and commented have already scrolled on to the next thing. The response to my video was almost entirely positive, and every time I open the app, I’m constantly bombarded with validation. However, this validation is shallow. The viewers don’t know me, they only know the short video that I posted. They may click the like button on my video, but they don’t like me. Which, of course, is not their fault. How could they even decide whether or not they like me? They know nothing about me. We’re total strangers.
It’s unwise to tie up one’s identity in validation from social media, but at the same time, looking for that validation is an easy trap to fall into. I can’t help but want the masses to care about my silly little video. I can’t help but want the masses to care about me.
I’ve seen enough internet drama to know that I don’t want to be an influencer. I’ve experienced more than enough virality I need to live my life. But at the same time, there’s something alluring about having a virtual community of people who can relate to my experiences, and who want to hear what I have to say, even just for a fleeting moment.
At the end of the day, I don’t know how to feel about my five seconds of TikTok fame. Although, I suspect that by next weekend it will all be over. The notifications will slow, and I’ll be able to open the app without constantly being alerted about new likes, comments, and followers. Soon enough, this weekend will just become another memory that I look back on and say “huh, that was weird, wasn’t it?”