You’ve probably heard the phrase by now: “Main character energy.” It’s meant to be empowering—a call to romanticize your life, take control of your story, and live boldly. But behind the aesthetic coffee shots and cinematic captions, something deeper is happening.
In a culture that encourages everyone to be the star of their own highlight reel, many people are quietly feeling disconnected—from each other, and from themselves. As we learn to perform our lives more than live them, the pressure to be “main character material” may be doing more harm than good.
Here’s a closer look at how the “main character” mindset took over—and what we might be losing along the way.
What Is “Main Character Energy,” Really?
It started as a meme, evolved into a trend, and now serves as a fully established cultural mindset. To embody “main character energy” is to live your life with dramatic flair and a touch of delusion—in a good way. It’s about taking up space, embracing your individuality, and recognizing that your life is worthy of attention.
On the surface, there’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s a refreshing antidote to self-doubt and invisibility, especially for women and marginalized voices who’ve long been sidelined. However, like any trend rooted in performance, it has its downsides.
The emphasis often shifts from being present in your life to curating your life. And that can lead to more comparison, more self-surveillance, and ironically, more isolation.
When Self-Awareness Becomes Self-Editing
Social media platforms are built around performance. Every post is a chance to tell the world who you are—or who you want to be. In the “main character” era, this means framing ordinary moments as scenes, applying a narrative arc to your morning coffee, and selecting soundtracks for your mini breakdowns.
While this can be creative and even cathartic, it also turns real life into a form of content. And when every action is filtered through how it will be perceived, spontaneity tends to fade. You stop doing things for yourself and start doing them for the sake of aesthetics. In trying to be the star of your story, you may lose the plot entirely.
The Loneliness Behind the Lens
Ironically, the more we frame our lives as movies, the more disconnected we can become from real connection. Main characters don’t always have supporting casts. And when every experience is crafted for viewership, it can feel hollow—like living in a perpetual dress rehearsal.
Studies show that screen time and curated self-presentation are linked to rising rates of loneliness and anxiety, especially among younger generations. And while connection is more accessible than ever, many people feel more isolated than they did a decade ago.When everyone is broadcasting, who’s really listening?
The Pressure to Be Interesting All the Time
One subtle harm of the “main character” trend is the expectation that your life must always be compelling. That you must constantly be chasing beauty, transformation, or significance.
But most of life is made up of ordinary, quiet moments. Laundry. Grocery runs. Mornings when you don’t feel cinematic at all. If we start to believe that only the extraordinary parts are worthy of attention, we may devalue the rest—and ourselves along with it.
You are not less valuable when your life is simple, slow, or messy. You are still living. And that matters more than the soundtrack.
Reclaiming Presence Over Performance
The antidote to all this isn’t deleting social media or rejecting joy—it’s reconnecting with presence. Living your life as it is, not as a series of scenes.
- Ask yourself: Am I doing this for myself—or for what it looks like?
- Notice moments without trying to narrate them.
- Be okay with unshared, unrecorded joy.
- Let conversations happen without needing to post them.
- Allow boredom. Rest. Silence. These are scenes, too—and they matter.
When you stop seeing yourself through an audience’s eyes, you give yourself permission to exist without performance.
Just Be
There’s nothing wrong with feeling like the main character sometimes. You are the lead in your own life. But you’re also part of a larger story—with other people, with ordinary moments, with real emotion that doesn’t need a filter.
You don’t have to be interesting all the time to be worthy of love, attention, or peace. Sometimes, the most powerful thing you can do is just be—without a soundtrack, without a caption, and without needing anyone else to notice.