For the longest time, I expressed myself through speeches, articles, research and advocacy work. But recently, I chose to speak in a different language—one rooted in music, emotion and honesty. I released my first song, “Welcome to My Perfect Life,” not to impress, but to express. It wasn’t a showcase of vocal skill. It was a message I needed to say aloud. And it was about masks.
We live in a world where it’s easier than ever to create a version of ourselves that looks confident, happy and flawless. With filters, curated feeds and carefully selected moments, we can appear to be living a “perfect life.” I know, because I’ve done it. I’ve posted photos from speaking engagements, shared certificates and published articles, announced events I would be part of, and checked in at places where I was working or relaxing. I’ve taken photos with friends, peers and interesting people I’ve met. Over time, as my body changed, I used filters too—to look slimmer, to smooth out my skin, to feel more presentable.
At one point, I started wondering: Who was I posting for? Was I trying to prove something? And more importantly, was I unintentionally making some feel like they had to catch up or compete with a version of me that was, in truth, selectively shown?
These questions weighed on me. So I did what I usually do when something tugs at my conscience—I created something around it. That became “Welcome to My Perfect Life.” The song is about pretending. It’s about wanting to be liked, wanting to belong, and yet fearing what might happen if we show who we truly are. The vocals are imperfect—and that was intentional. Because I wanted people to hear the conflict. The vulnerability. The quiet pain behind the mask.
This message matters to me deeply because I see how so many people, especially young ones, especially women, are constantly editing their lives to feel seen or accepted. I see the anxiety in students trying to keep up with online expectations. I hear stories of women hesitant to show their true selves because they fear judgment. I also know professionals who feel like impostors despite their success, just because they’ve learned to smile through pressure.
We live in a time when being “real” feels riskier than ever. But it’s also a time when authenticity is the one thing we crave the most.
I hope that this song becomes a conversation starter. I want it to remind people that it’s okay not to be okay. That there is strength in softness. That being real—whether in art, music, or life—is not about being flawless, but about being brave.
If there’s something I’ve learned from this experience, it’s that your voice doesn’t have to be perfect to be heard. It just needs to be yours. You don’t need a label, a polished image, or the latest gear to create something meaningful. You just need the courage to share your truth.
Whether it’s through a painting, a poem, a melody, or a journal entry, let your story live outside of you. Create art that speaks. You never know who might hear it and finally feel seen.