A Beginning That Felt Messy
When I first opened TikTok, I had no plan. I scrolled for hours, laughed at silly clips, and wondered how people managed to pull in thousands of views with what looked like almost no effort. My early videos went nowhere. Ten views, maybe twenty if I was lucky.
At one point, I caught myself searching guides on how to get viral on tiktok and thought, “Do I even know why I’m doing this?” That question slowed me down. Because growth isn’t only about numbers. It’s about what those numbers mean to you. Some people chase them for fame, others for business, and many simply to be part of something bigger.
I remember filming my first “serious” attempt: a funny skit in my kitchen. I rehearsed lines, set up the angle, and even changed my shirt twice. When I posted, I waited like it was a lottery ticket. The result? Twenty-five views. My friend texted, “Cute video!” and that was it. I laughed but felt defeated. Was it worth trying again?
Why We Want the Numbers
I’ve asked myself, and a few friends too, why we care about followers at all. One friend said, “It feels like proof that what I post matters.” Another admitted, “I want brands to notice me.” And someone else laughed and said, “Honestly? I’d love free products.”
There’s no single reason. People want growth for different needs:
- A student sharing their art and craving community.
- A small business trying to show products to local buyers.
- A comedian testing material that might lead to live gigs.
- Or simply someone who wants their voice to be heard.
I realized growth is rarely about the numbers themselves. It’s about validation, opportunity, and connection. Once I framed it that way, my approach to TikTok shifted. I stopped treating it like a slot machine and more like a conversation with an audience.
One night, over coffee, I asked my cousin (who had more than 10,000 followers) why she kept posting. She smiled and said, “Because every time I upload, I imagine talking to one person. The rest doesn’t matter.” That line stuck with me. Maybe growth wasn’t only about getting noticed; maybe it was about not feeling invisible.
Lessons From Small Wins
My first “real” win didn’t come from a polished video. It was me cooking pasta on a tired Wednesday night. The lighting was awful, the sound cracked, but people laughed at my mistake of dropping half the pasta on the floor. Comments rolled in like, “That’s me every night.” It wasn’t glamorous, but it was real.
That moment taught me that TikTok growth happens when people see themselves in your content. Perfect shots don’t always connect. Imperfect ones often do. If I look back, all my better-performing posts share one thing: honesty. A laugh, a stumble, a slice of daily life.
Here’s what helped me grow from those first small wins:
- Post regularly even when ideas feel boring.
- Don’t delete “bad” videos, they sometimes surprise you later.
- Reply to comments like you’re texting a friend.
- Watch your own videos and ask, “Would I keep watching?”
- Look for patterns in what sparks reactions.
Later, I tested this theory by uploading a “perfect” video, edited transitions, trending music, flawless timing. It flopped. Then I posted myself ranting about losing my keys. That one pulled in thousands of views. I laughed at the irony. Maybe people don’t want the stage version of me. Maybe they want the hallway version, the unpolished me trying to find my keys before work.
Data Became My Quiet Teacher
At first, I avoided TikTok analytics because numbers made me nervous. But slowly I learned they weren’t there to scare me. They were clues. One video with a 70 percent watch time told me the pacing worked. Another where people left after 5 seconds told me I opened too slow.
It’s a bit like cooking: taste, adjust, taste again. Data doesn’t guarantee growth, but it helps you make smarter guesses. And it shows you that growth isn’t luck. It’s small tweaks made over and over until something clicks.
One weekend, I sat down and rewatched my top five videos. I took notes like a student: length, tone, lighting, even facial expressions. I noticed something odd—people liked when I paused mid-sentence and laughed at myself. That wasn’t planned. It was me being clumsy. The data showed me that clumsy worked better than polished. So I leaned into it.
The Ending Isn’t an Ending
If you’re reading this hoping for a magic formula, I’ll be honest—there isn’t one. Growth on TikTok feels unpredictable. Some days, nothing works. Other days, a shaky video filmed half asleep gets thousands of views. That mix is both frustrating and exciting.
What I’ve learned is this: growth is less about control and more about showing up, listening, and trying again. Followers and views are not the final prize. They’re signs that people are paying attention, that what you put out into the world has weight. And maybe that’s the best part.
Sometimes I still wonder if it’s worth the effort. Then I see a comment from someone saying, “This made my day,” and I think, yes it is. Growth is more than a number climbing on a screen. It’s the proof that even in short, silly clips, connection is possible. And connection is what keeps me posting, from zero to trending, and back again.
