Dear Public Diary ,

I just finished watching a South Korean movie called Following, and honestly, I’m still processing it. You know that feeling when a film ends and you just sit there thinking… what did I just witness? That’s exactly how I feel right now. The story was so strong and layered that I kept thinking: this could easily be turned into a mini-series — like 6 or 8 episodes — not just a movie. It’s rare these days to see a plot with psychological depth and something real to say about the world we live in. The only personal thing I didn’t like was that I had already seen the plot twist on Instagram. Yes, a random reel ruined it for me. So I spent two hours waiting for that one moment. But the crazy part? Even when it happened, and even though I knew it was coming… it still hit me. It still surprised me. It still hurt. Someone once said, “A good twist doesn’t rely only on surprise — it relies on meaning.” And this one had meaning.

The story follows a young woman who begins posting parts of her life online just to get noticed. At first, she’s just a normal person trying to get attention like everyone else. But she quickly discovers something dark: the more dramatic, chaotic, and shocking the content is, the more followers she gets. So she starts pushing the limits. She stages moments. She performs emotions. She creates situations. She begins acting her life instead of living it. And that transformation — that shift from “being” to “performing” — is exactly what is happening in real life today.

Actually, watching this film made me think about how insane people have become for views. Views have become a drug. Attention became a drug. It’s the new addiction. It’s not cigarettes or alcohol — it’s numbers. Likes. Shares. Followers. It’s crazy to think that ten years ago, this kind of behavior didn’t even exist. We weren’t filming everything. We weren’t performing daily life. Now? Everything is content. Every moment is a potential post. Attention became money. As long as you go viral, everything is forgiven.

And let me share something with you — last week, I was on a trip with a friend of mine. The place we visited was breathtaking. Nature was stunning. The kind of views that make you feel small in the best way possible — like life is bigger than us. And I noticed something: I took a deep breath, I watched the mountains, the river, the colors, the sky… I felt everything. But my friend? She spent the whole time taking pictures. Hundreds of pictures. The whole gallery of her phone was the priority. I kept thinking: “I don’t think she actually saw the place.” She didn’t experience the moment — she collected photos of it. I believe a picture can save a memory — but one good picture is enough. You don’t need 200 shots of the same flower. Sometimes the soul needs to look, not the camera. And that’s what this movie reminded me of — we are no longer living life, we are recording it so strangers can see it, and we miss it in the process.

And the more I think about it, the more I realize: nothing online is real anymore. Not even the bright side that influencers show. In the beginning, influencers used to show only their best moments. Their pretty breakfasts, their gym progress, their vacations. But now they even fake the bright side. In the movie, the main character discovers that people love a “kind” and “helpful” version of her — so she becomes that, not because she truly changed, but because the audience responded to it. Isn’t it scary? That people can shape their identity according to what strangers like? As someone once wrote, “We aren’t influenced by influencers — they are influenced by us.” They become what we want them to be. Not who they really are.

If you go on TikTok lives today, you will literally see people humiliating themselves for virtual gifts. You will see men saying the most ridiculous things just to be noticed. You will see women exposing themselves just to be desired. And for what? For digital hearts? For attention from strangers who will forget them in 24 hours? I ask myself sometimes, when did this become normal?

I remember when masculinity used to be defined by character, not by performance. Men used to be focused, quiet, intelligent, goal oriented. Now you see a lot of them making dumb online content just to be seen. And femininity used to be mystery, elegance, respect, softness. Now some women believe that being visible to many men is the definition of beauty. But for me? Being seen is not value. Being desired by many men is not success. Sometimes, protecting your dignity is more important than being noticed.

One thing I found interesting too is that the movie had a little Gone Girl flavor at some points — but I was relieved that it wasn’t a copy. It had its own unique direction and identity. Korean cinema has a special way of reminding us that there are psychopaths living among us. They are not always the monsters we imagine. Sometimes they are normal people. They are sitting next to us, living among us, and we don’t recognize them until one day we face the real version of them.

So in the end, Following was much more than a thriller. It was a mirror. It made me question the reality we live in today — the reality of performance, manipulation, fake identities, addiction to attention, the death of real experience, the death of silence, the death of “living for yourself.” It made me ask myself — and I want to ask you too, dear reader: how much of what you see online is real… and how much of it is just a very well-performed lie?