My Take on Being Called an Attention Whore, As I So Often Am

I simply reclaim the term. 🌙🌹💦

Does craving attention inherently make me a bad person? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to have eyes on you in a society that propagates this dopamine-craving mentality. The post-Y2K urge to become popular. The satyriasis for validation. I crave validation, not popularity. Obscurity is a swamp I thrive in. Being more popular and successful would be cool but it’s not my main motivational driver. The online culture does something harsh to our brains. I’m afraid of being misunderstood and misconstrued sometimes. Ultimately I don’t take myself that seriously even though I often sound like a pretentious fuck.

To me, the subject matter I’m exploring (intertwined in my OnlyFans, my art, my writing, my music, my personal life) with themes of sexuality, cyber horniness, parasocial interaction, fragmented existence… is the most fascinating subject matter in the world. To me, it is. Because I live it every single day where it’s beyond a conceptual sense, it’s a lifestyle. To anyone and everyone else, it may not strike your emotional chords. You probably don’t give a single flying fuck, and perceive me as another girl flashing tit hoping to get noticed: you’re absolutely correct in thinking that. I do want to be noticed. Loved. Admired. Jerked off to. Spoiled with gifts. Given money. Given compliments. Desired. Protected. I want attention in ways that my parents never gave me while growing up, I suppose I’m a classic black sheep case study who “now does porn”. There’s a loneliness in this line of work that’s consistent with the loneliness I’ve felt all my life, and perhaps this solitary shadow aspect is what draws me to sex work. It’s not for everyone, I’m not for everyone, and the last thing I want is to “other” myself from my clients, my artist peers, my fellow sex workers, and be alienated from a community that could bring me a sense of belonging and a lot of joy.

There’s nothing about me that’s special. There’s nothing about anybody that’s special, and in that beautiful and bizarre way, everybody is special. We’re more or less on an equal playing field online but what bothers me most is the capitalist views of things as competition; I’m not a competitive person and when it comes to comparison I’d rather retreat than compete. I just do my thing and hope a niche of people like it enough to justify making this my livelihood.

Social relationships were always a bit difficult for me, and I think that may translate in the cyber world in some ways. There’s a sense of unwritten etiquette that must be adhered to, but it’s not as easy to perceive as the nuance of encountering someone irl. Less social cues. Are parasocial cues a thing? What is beyond parasocial then: not a one-way cyber relationship, but an interactive one? A mirage of a relationship that isn’t a mirage because the digital realm is as real as the corporeal. How real is the cyber world?

The way social network algorithms are designed, we all know, is like a slot machine that dispenses dopamine and spikes it when we get likes, notifications, attention. To maintain my sanity, I take breaks and do internet detoxes. Part of me loves being online and part of me hates it. The inner conflict is real. I’m very transparent about the way I navigate this boring digital dystopia. Yes bitch I love validation lol it’s banal and maybe embarrassing but I like to have my existence validated. (My looks and personality and mind and talent and art as well, of course — this lady is demanding.)

I don’t think craving cyber attention makes me a bad person. I don’t judge others for doing stuff like this online: posting cringe comes with the territory. Most of what I post is cringe as hell lol it’s funny how most of the time my artistic, confident, thought-out posts never do as well as the throwaway lackluster desperate seeming ones. If you’ve ever given me your time and read my long ass analytical posts, thanks.

Online sluts: look, they’re self aware too 👁 👄 👁

PS. This cover image is from a year ago when I had a nervous breakdown on Thanksgiving and had to get a hotel to get away from my own thoughts. Living my slutty Wes Anderson movie fantasy tho ❤️💛💙 idk why this post aligned with thanksgiving… Felt emo, might delete later. It’s been an exhausting year. I’ve been doing this for a long time. 🌟