It was clear she had worked tirelessly to cultivate a brand—each photo was edited with the same bright, iridescent filter, giving her grid an eerily cohesive aesthetic.
Later that night, I lay in bed and looked Jenna up on Instagram. Her account was public. I scrolled through the last pictures Jenna posted to the internet before she died. Her profile was carefully curated. It was clear she had worked tirelessly to cultivate a brand—each photo was edited with the same bright, iridescent filter, giving her grid an eerily cohesive aesthetic. This didn’t surprise me. Most Gen Zers I know have a distilled style on the internet. I zoomed in on Jenna’s face—her perfect skin, her plush lips stretched wide into a dazzling smile that exposed her pristine, straight, white teeth—and I tried to see anything in her eyes that would indicate she was unhappy. But I just saw what seemed to be a joyful college freshman.