[STORY] Top influencer for Subscription Boxes & Product Reviews

I never planned to become a “subscription box reviewer,” but here I am—ring light on, camera rolling, unboxing my 27th self-care subscription box of the year, hoping this one doesn’t come with another lavender-scented disappointment.

Why? Because my TikTok page—@UnboxWithMe—suddenly blew up after my brutally honest review of a skincare box that gave me pimples and depression at the same time.

People now trust me for authentic subscription box reviews, especially the “best beauty boxes for sensitive skin,” “monthly lifestyle boxes,” and “budget-friendly subscription boxes for Gen Z.”

So, when I got an email from a mysterious brand called EnchantedCrate, promising a “personalized self-care experience based on your soul energy,” I thought—perfect content.

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The doorbell rang.

The delivery guy looked at me like he knew something I didn’t. The box was surprisingly light—wrapped in brown paper, sealed with a gold wax stamp of a tiny crescent moon.

Me: “Weird. No branding, no fragile stickers… Either luxury or potential kidnapping plot.”

I carried it inside, set up my camera, adjusted my hoodie, and hit record.

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“Hey guys! It’s me again, and today—we’re unboxing the most mysterious subscription box I’ve ever received. No company details, just ‘EnchantedCrate’. Let’s see if this is worth subscribing to or just straight-up witchcraft.”

I sliced it open.

Inside were just three things:

• A handwritten note: “Review honestly. Use carefully.”
• A black velvet pouch.
• A small jar labeled “Memory Mist – Not for everyday use.”

Me (laughing nervously): “Are these people sending me amnesia in a bottle?”

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Curiosity won.

I opened the velvet pouch—inside was a crystal bracelet with my initials carved into the tiny silver charm.

Me: “Okay, personalization level: slightly creepy, but cute.”

I sprayed the Memory Mist into the air—just a small puff.

It smelled like rain on dusty ground… and old books. The room got quiet—too quiet.

Suddenly, I wasn’t in my room anymore. I was sitting on the floor of my grandma’s old house—the one we sold years ago. She was alive. Smiling. Sewing my torn school uniform.

I froze.

Grandma: “Why are you crying, my child?”

I couldn’t move. Couldn’t talk. I just cried. Hard.

Then I woke up—with my camera still recording.

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My comment section exploded overnight.

• “Why were you crying? Is everything okay??”
• “This feels real, not scripted. I cried too.”
• “Where can I buy this Memory Mist? Link pls!”
• “Is this the best emotional wellness subscription box???”

Brands started emailing me. “Top influencer for Subscription Boxes & Product Reviews.”

But EnchantedCrate never replied.

I tried the spray again.

This time, I saw… my ex-best friend. The one I ghosted. We were laughing in her room, braiding each other’s hair. She said:

“You’re still my favorite person, even if you forgot about me.”

I turned off the camera.

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One night, angry from missing someone who’s no longer here, I emptied the whole jar.

Big mistake.

I woke up in a hospital bed.

My mom was holding my hand.
My camera was found on the floor.
The Memory Mist bottle—empty.

The doctors said I was unconscious for two days.

But that’s not the scary part.

On my wrist… the crystal bracelet was cracked. And someone added a new charm:
“Remember & Live.”

No branding. No return address. Just silence.

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My video? 22 million views.
My page? Verified.
Brands? Fighting to send me PR boxes.
My followers? Calling me “The girl who reviewed memories.”

But I don’t spray anything anymore.

Except room freshener.
Normal room freshener.