Entertainment , she wrote next. Her show was entertainment. Her Instagram stories were entertainment. Even her “private” moments, the ones she sold to docuseries, were entertainment. But what did she find entertaining? She tried to remember the last movie she watched without analyzing the cinematography, the last song she heard without wondering about sync licensing. She couldn’t.
A dull ache spread behind her ribs. Not a heart attack—probably not—just the slow realization that she had turned her own interior life into a brand, and the brand had consumed the original blueprint. lacey jayne interrogating her ass
Then she turned off her phone, drew a bath with no bath bombs from any sponsor, and sat in the water until it went cold. Entertainment , she wrote next