Delusions of Grandeur

Sometimes I feel like I’m not a normal person. And I don’t mean that in a quirky, “I’m not like other girls” way. I mean it in the quiet, uncomfortable, kind of lonely sense that I move through life with this deep, persistent belief that I’m supposed to be doing something bigger.

It’s a weird thing to admit. Sounds egotistical, or delusional, or like I think I’m above the rules everyone else lives by. But it’s not that. I just... I’ve never been able to accept the idea that life is something you’re supposed to just survive. Get a job, go to dinner, watch a show, wake up, do it all again. I’ve always felt like I was meant to stretch beyond that. Like something was waiting for me, and I just had to build the guts and the grit to meet it.

I know people joke about “main character syndrome,” or romanticizing your life to the point where reality starts to feel blurry. But for me, it’s less about needing to be seen and more about feeling like I’ve always seen something else—like a life that doesn’t quite exist yet, but could. And the older I get, the deeper I go in my career, the more I commit to this non-traditional path, the more I realize that maybe I’m not making this up. Maybe the vision I’ve been chasing isn’t a fantasy. Maybe it’s a blueprint.

I don’t live a typical day-to-day life. I work in fashion, styling, branding, talent management—a mix of creative and strategic things that don’t fit neatly into a title. All of this happens while balancing your more run of the mill “entry level job” (to pay the bills and whatnot. I’m up early, responding to emails, pitching ideas, curating visuals, building something that feels like mine. Some days I’m on set, some days I’m in meetings, most days I am working behind a desk, some days I’m spiraling in bed trying to figure out if I’ve made a huge mistake. But through all of it, there’s this undercurrent of drive that I can’t turn off. It tells me, even when I’m burnt out, that I’m not doing all this for nothing.

It affects how I move through the world. I’m hyper-aware of energy, of visuals, of what I wear, how I speak, who I align myself with. Not because I’m trying to create a persona—but because I see everything as part of a bigger picture. Even my wardrobe is curated to reflect something bigger than just taste. It’s part of the clarity I crave in every area of my life. When your choices are deliberate enough to become recognizable, they start to build a language of their own. A form of self-trust.

And still, I question myself constantly. I wonder if this deep belief in my own potential is just a coping mechanism for how unstable and unpredictable things can feel. But I’ve also noticed: people who do things differently often have to believe in themselves before anyone else does. So maybe it’s not narcissism. Maybe it’s just survival.

This way of thinking has given me confidence, but it’s also made me feel detached sometimes. Detached from people who don’t think this way. Detached from routines that feel too safe. Detached from the idea that I should be satisfied with “enough.”

I’m learning to balance it. To find joy in small things while still holding space for ambition. To love the in-between phases without losing sight of where I’m going.

I don’t know if I’m destined for greatness. But I do know I’m not meant to play it small. And that knowing—not a fantasy, not a performance, just a deep, personal knowing—has shaped everything about the way I live.