Page 85 of Falling Off Script

I click.

There she is. No intro. No filter. Just her and a white wall. The lighting isn’t even that flattering.

“I haven’t recorded in a while,” she says. “Partly because I was ashamed. Mostly because I didn’t know what version of myself was still allowed to speak.”

Okay. So this isn’t a hit piece. I adjust the volume.

“It’s a weird kind of grief, when the thing that breaks you is something you technically chose. I chose to trust. To speak. To feel something. And someone turned it into a promo clip.”

Guilt flares again, sharp and hot. I shut it down just as fast. I didn’t leak it. I didn’t even touch the file.

Still. I shift in my chair.

“The worst part wasn’t the Internet remixing me like a pop culture cautionary tale. It was realizing I’d stopped recognizing my own voice.”

I exhale through my nose, hard. She’s doing it again. Making it sound universal, poetic, tragic—and somehow mine.

It’s weird, hearing her voice out loud again. Not in a clip. Not in a remix. Just... her.

And it makes me feel—

Well.

Nothing.

Obviously.

It just reminds me how long it’s been since someone made silence feel like a conversation. That’s all.

“Here’s the thing no one tells you about humiliation—it doesn’t kill you. It gives you clarity.”

I lean back again. Right. This isn’t revenge. It’s clarity. And she’s found it without me. Without even looking for me in it.

Some dark, low voice inside me mutters:Good for her.

“I thought if I lost the perfect narrative, I lost my voice. Turns out my voice never needed perfection. Just honesty. And a mic.”

The screen goes black.

I stay staring at it like it might turn back on and sayjust kidding.

It doesn’t.

I open a new tab. Click on the episode stats. Ten thousand views. Low watch-to-like ratio. The comments?

Consistent engagement. Emotional resonance. Minimal trolling.

Classic slow-burn sleeper. Not a scandal. A moment.

God, she’s good.

No theatrics. No venom. Just clarity. Like she’s wrestled it all down to truth and let it speak for itself.

I want to text her.

Not to explain. Not even to apologize, which is new for me. Just... to say I saw it. That I heard her. That she’s not alone in the fallout.

But I don’t.

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