Sada

@sadathegoat

You know that feeling when you scroll TikTok and suddenly stumble upon someone who feels less like a creator and more like your best friend ranting over coffee? That’s the magic of @sadathegoat. Sada, a 22-year-old from Ohio, didn’t blow up by chasing trends—she just started filming raw, unfiltered moments from her bedroom during lockdown, like trying to microwave popcorn while simultaneously crying over a text message. Her early videos, shot on a cracked iPhone with natural lighting, resonated because they felt *real*: no fancy edits, no performative perfection, just the messy reality of being a twentysomething navigating anxiety, bad dates, and the eternal struggle of folding fitted sheets. She’s amassed over 3 million followers not by pretending to have it all together, but by admitting she absolutely doesn’t—and making you laugh while doing it.

What sets Sada apart is how she turns mundane chaos into comedy gold. One minute she’s mimicking the internal panic of walking into a room full of strangers (“Why is my hand waving? I didn’t tell it to wave!”), the next she’s dissecting modern dating with the intensity of a therapist who’s had three espressos. Her signature style? Leaning close to the camera, eyes wide, delivering punchlines in a rapid-fire whisper that feels like a late-night confessional. She avoids overused slang like “slay” or “vibes,” opting instead for phrases real people actually say—like calling a toxic ex “the human equivalent of a participation trophy.” It’s this authenticity that makes her skits about therapy sessions or grocery store awkwardness hit so hard; you’re not just watching a video, you’re reliving your own cringe.

Her impact sneaks up on you. Fans often comment things like, “This made me cancel my therapy appointment because you just said everything I’ve been feeling,” which sounds hyperbolic until you see how she tackles heavy topics. In a now-viral clip about social anxiety, she films herself rehearsing small talk in a mirror (“Hi… weather’s… wet?”), then cuts to her actually freezing at a coffee shop. The video doesn’t offer solutions—it just says, “Yeah, me too.” That vulnerability has sparked a quiet movement in her comments, where followers share their own stories without judgment. It’s rare to find a creator who makes mental health feel less isolating without ever sounding preachy.

Off-camera, Sada keeps things refreshingly low-key. Publicly, she’s shared snippets of her life in Columbus—like her love for thrift-store sweaters (she once joked about buying one that “smells like a grandma’s attic but in a cute way”) or her chaotic rescue dog, Pickles, who photobombs half her videos. She rarely posts about brand deals, and when she does, it’s for indie mental health apps or sustainable brands she genuinely uses. At 22, she’s refreshingly unbothered by the pressure to monetize every second; instead, she’ll drop a video about burning toast while singing off-key to Lizzo, reminding us that joy lives in the imperfect moments.

In a feed saturated with polished influencers, Sada’s rise feels like a collective exhale. She’s proof that you don’t need a million-dollar setup to connect—you just need honesty, a decent Wi-Fi connection, and the courage to laugh at your own disasters. Watching her feels like hanging out with that friend who texts you a voice note at 2 a.m. saying, “I just ordered pizza… and also, why are we like this?” Exactly. Why *are* we like this? Thankfully, she’s here to figure it out with us, one slightly shaky selfie cam video at a time.