I Opened a Mystery Subscription Box—What Was Inside Sent Chills Down My Spine

Last month, I signed up for this new lifestyle subscription box I saw on TikTok. The ad said:

“Curated monthly drops for self-care, wellness, and a little chaos.”

Honestly, I just wanted free stuff. I’d been binge-watching unboxing videos, and the dopamine hit those influencers get when they pull out bath salts, cute candles, or quirky snacks?

I wanted that. Plus, I thought, why not post a few reviews? Maybe even build my own mini-reviewer persona online.

The first box came in matte black packaging with a holographic logo that said: “THIS IS YOUR SIGN.”

Smooth. Gen Z bait. I liked it already.

Inside were 7 items:

• A rose quartz roller
• A handwritten affirmation card that read: “Your healing starts here.”
• A vegan chocolate bar
• Scented bath bombs
• An obscure indie book on emotional detox
• A herbal sleep mist
• And… a small sealed envelope that said “Open when you’re ready.”

Cute gimmick, right? At first, I didn’t think much of it. I did a chill aesthetic unboxing video with some lo-fi audio, posted it, got a few likes, and kept it moving.

Weeks passed. Another box arrived. More goodies. Another envelope.

By the third month, I noticed something strange.

Each envelope—though unopened—seemed heavier. Not literally. But like, spiritually. Like it was holding something personal. The handwriting started looking oddly familiar too. By the fourth box, I finally opened one.

Inside?

A short note, typed, but weirdly specific:

“I know you’ve been waking up at 3:13 a.m. lately. Drink water. Breathe. The dreams will pass.”

My stomach turned.

Because… I had been waking up at that exact time for a week. Dreams I couldn’t remember, but left me drenched in sweat. I chalked it up to coincidence. Maybe clever marketing, algorithmic guesswork. I kept telling myself that.

But the next envelope shook me.

“Stop pretending you’re okay in your reviews. People can see it. Your voice cracks at the end.”

No branding. No call-to-action. Just raw truth.

It felt like someone—or something—was watching me through the content I made. Like the box wasn’t just about products. It was about me.

So I stopped reviewing. Stopped filming. But I couldn’t stop the boxes. They kept coming. Same time every month. Even when I didn’t pay.

Then last week, I got a box that was completely empty—except for one item: a mirror.

No message. No chocolate. No mist.

Just a cracked hand mirror.

I stared into it for what felt like hours.

And I don’t know how to explain this, but… I cried. Not sad tears. Not even scared ones. Just that kind of cry you cry when your chest finally lets go of years you didn’t know you were holding.

Today, I’m still subscribed.

But not for the stuff.

I review differently now. Realer. I talk about bad days, good days, and days where the only victory was brushing my teeth.

Sometimes I still get those weird envelopes.

Sometimes, I write my own.

And sometimes, I tuck them inside returned boxes… hoping that someone else out there is ready to open theirs.