“I don’t know who needs to hear this…”

I don’t know who needs to hear this…

Oh wait—yes I do.

Every creator who starts their video with that phrase like they’re delivering divine wisdom through the windshield of their car, while holding a lukewarm latte. You know exactly who needs to hear this, you wrote the script for them. Let’s stop pretending this is a spontaneous outpouring of spiritual truth.

The “I don’t know who needs to hear this…” trend was cute at first. It gave off vintage Tumblr energy. It felt kind of helpful, even comforting. A gentle nudge, wrapped in a little mystery.

But now? It’s become the human equivalent of a pop-up ad that thinks it’s your therapist.

And I think we’ve officially hit the saturation point.

When Did This Become the Default Opener for Fake Depth?

At some point, “I don’t know who needs to hear this…” went from being a sweet, soft way of expressing concern to an all-purpose way to say “I have something passive-aggressive to say, but I’m gonna pretend it’s not about you.”

Or worse: “I’m about to tell you something basic and obvious, but I’m gonna package it like it’s revolutionary.”

Let’s be real: no one says “I don’t know who needs to hear this” and then drops something actually mind-blowing. It’s always something like:

“Drink water.”

“If they wanted to, they would.”

“It’s okay to rest.”

“Stop texting your ex.”

Wow. Groundbreaking. Next you’ll tell me the sky is blue and that eating four donuts for dinner might cause indigestion.

The Faux-Empathy Flex

The whole phrase is wrapped in this faux-empathy aesthetic. It’s pretending to be supportive—like the person saying it is just so overwhelmed by love and concern for humanity that they had no choice but to hit record.

But dig a little deeper and it’s often just a smug humblebrag wearing a “just looking out for you” hat.

“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you are worthy of love.”

Cool. Thanks. But if you really didn’t know who needed to hear it, would you be saying it…on camera…with a ring light…on a Tuesday afternoon?

This is performance, not compassion.

It’s the Digital Version of Speaking in Vague Horoscopes

This trend is like the “Today you may feel emotionally distant from a close friend” line in horoscopes. It’s vague enough to apply to literally anyone, so it always lands.

But it’s lazy. It’s filler. It’s a way to seem like you’re giving value without actually saying much of anything.

It’s like starting a sentence with “Not to be rude, but…” You know what’s coming is 100% rude.

Same thing here. “I don’t know who needs to hear this…” = “I do know, and I’m low-key subtweeting them through video.”

The Rise of the Relatable Prophet™

Social media has turned everyone into a part-time life coach. And this phrase? It’s become the battle cry of the Relatable Prophet™—that genre of creator who talks like they’re casually delivering TED Talks from their Toyota.

They speak in blanket statements. They whisper life advice like they’re dropping ancient wisdom from the gods. All while using the same script you’ve heard 10,000 times before.

And we eat it up—because the algorithm rewards that performative vulnerability. But the truth is, this isn’t connection. It’s content.

If you’ve heard the same line from 40 different people in one week, maybe it’s not that “the universe wanted you to hear it”—maybe the algorithm just has bad taste.

Sometimes It’s Just…Manipulative

And here’s where it gets sketchy: this phrase is also used as a guilt-trip delivery system.

“I don’t know who needs to hear this, but if you’re not working on your goals every single day, you’re not serious about your dreams.”

Okay Hustle McMotivation, chill. Some of us are just trying to make it through the week without screaming into a jar of peanut butter.

This phrase gets weaponized to shame people under the illusion of “support.” It’s wrapped in concern, but it’s often pushing toxic productivity, perfectionism, or just plain unrealistic expectations.

Pro tip: If your “advice” makes people feel worse, it’s not actually helpful.

The Irony? You Could Just Say What You Want to Say.

Here’s a revolutionary idea: instead of starting with “I don’t know who needs to hear this,” maybe just…say the thing?

You don’t need to pretend you’re addressing some anonymous soul floating in the digital void. If you have something to say, say it. With your chest.

Instead of: “I don’t know who needs to hear this, but your worth isn’t tied to your productivity.”

Try: “Hey, if you’ve been feeling like garbage for not crossing everything off your to-do list—same. Let’s stop equating value with output. We’re more than our task managers.”

See the difference? One’s a fortune cookie. The other is a human being talking to another human being.

A Trend That Lost Its Meaning

The phrase didn’t start off terrible. It really didn’t. There was something gentle about it. A little bit of mystery, a little bit of comfort. And when it was fresh, it was kind of endearing.

But now?

Now it’s the verbal equivalent of the “Live, Laugh, Love” sign at HomeGoods. It’s everywhere. It means nothing. It’s lost all sincerity.

And just like trends that overstay their welcome (looking at you, millennial pink), this one has reached cringe status.

Let’s Retire It With Dignity

There are other ways to connect with people. There are better ways to say “you’re not alone” or “this might resonate.” Ways that don’t involve this tired preamble.

Here are some alternatives to “I don’t know who needs to hear this…” that don’t make people want to throw their phone into a lake:

“Here’s something I’ve been thinking about lately…”

“I used to believe this—and it completely changed my mindset…”

“If you’ve ever felt [insert real emotion], this might hit home.”

“I didn’t want to admit this, but it’s true…”

“So this just clicked for me, and maybe it’ll click for you too…”

Each of those comes from a place of shared experience, not vague performance.

Say Less, Mean More

Social media doesn’t need more fortune cookie wisdom. It needs more people being real. Not car-confessional real. Not “I’m pretending to have an epiphany I actually wrote down in Notion two weeks ago” real. Just actual, imperfect, this-is-what-I’m-dealing-with-too kind of real.

So the next time someone starts a video with “I don’t know who needs to hear this…,” feel free to scroll. Or better yet, start your own post with something more grounded, more thoughtful, more you.

Because the world doesn’t need another person saying the same thing.

It needs your actual voice.

Without the canned intro.