Rae Miller, a relatively normal young woman, was trying her best to sleep through a very loud thunderstorm. It was midnight, maybe quarter past. She lived in a city, in an apartment with her roommate, and best friend.
Blake Jackson, more commonly known as Blake White. Recognise the name? You should. She’s one of the biggest social media stars of Rae’s time.
Rae became friends with Blake around two or so years prior. They met once at an event, Rae had heard her name but not her face. Rae will always remember that entrancing pink hair.
Blake’s whole persona was pink pink pink. Her clothes, her makeup, even her eyes happened to be pink.
They spoke for a few hours and quickly became friends online. Blake’s career was growing at that point, and hadn’t- or more like hasn’t stopped since. From thousands to millions, growing to overtake even political names. She had made her mark in the social media world long ago but somehow continued to make more.
Rae lay there, thinking about the success of her friend whilst she really didn’t do much. Rae was a great cook and an incredible singer, not to mention her amazing artwork. With the ability to gain any amount of fame whenever she wanted it, Rae preferred a quiet and peaceful life. She had once experienced what it was like to be famous after appearing on one of Blake’s livestream events briefly, she was bombarded with fans asking for her autograph and signature. It was very overwhelming for her.
The storm seemed to be getting less and less powerful as the night went on. It was around half past midnight, Rae was looking at her alarm clock when she heard the sound a pen scratching paper, of writing.
Every night since Rae had lived with Blake, just before she went to sleep, Blake would write in her diary. An accounting of every single tiny action she made throughout the day. Rae had looked over Blake’s shoulder on occasion where she would find her writing about the exact orange juice she drank or what had happened on social media. It wasn’t something she expected a 24 year old woman to be doing, but she never judged it.
Thinking of orange juice, Rae had a craving.
She got out of bed and walked to her bedroom door. She looked at her bed, then at her room as a whole. She had painted her walls all different colours. She loved it.
She made her way out of the room and into the connected kitchen and living room. The apartment was fairly compact in contrast of the size of Blake’s bank account. But she never complained, it’s the kind of place she always wanted to live in.
She walked to the fridge and opened it, finding a carton of orange juice. She grabbed a glass and poured it. As she did, she looked behind her, at the couch in front of the TV. Blake was sitting there, writing away in her little pink notebook.
“Y’know what time it is?” Rae said, sarcastically,
“H-Huh?” Blake looked a little started, “o-oh yeah, yeah totally it’s... uh...”
“It’s half past midnight, welcome to Saturday,” Rae said, chuckling at her own joke,
“Hehe...” Blake giggled awkwardly, she seemed pretty out of it,
“Everything okay... or do you just want me to go?” Rae asked. Sometimes this would happen, Blake would suddenly seem confused and disoriented, like she had just woken up from a very convincing dream.
“I... uhm...” Blake continued to stumble over her words,
“Okay, I’ll... I’ll go. See you tomorrow, sleep tight,” Rae said, awkwardly. She finished her OJ and walked back to her room. Blake continued to stare impossibly at the wall, like she had seen a ghost.
Rae shook the thought out of her head, it’s just something that happens. She’s tired and needs some sleep. Rae decided to take her own advice, she laid down in her own bed and fell to sleep.