Friday, November 7, 2014

Instagram...High School Continued.

I temporarily disabled my Instagram account. It was starting to contribute to my already scattered and ambiguous perception of my life. I was slowly turning into a social media private investigator. Sewing together images to create, at most times a fraudulent idea of what "my friends" are doing, or feeling, or thinking. I've spent hours, convincing myself that my [fake] altruistic behavior was excused, because "these are my friends"... Right? I should be interested in, what they are wearing, how their hair looks today, what restaurant they are at, who they are with, do I know that person, how come I wasn't invited?. Instagram quickly became a reminder of my high school social status.

The Cheerleader, The Jock, The Geek, The Comedian. None of these were a clear representation of who I was in high school. Instagram creates a whole new level of classificatory characterizations, which I still don't fit in. The popular girl, the one that's where everybody is. The girl that seems to be invited to everything. The Fun Guy, that's friends with everybody else. You can identify him by post that he's been tagged in. The "Mom", she loves everything about her kids. They are the greatest gift she's ever received. They get straight A's, on the honor roll, always look so darned cute, and never ever, stress their "mom" out. There is the "Instagram Comedian" who seems to find the joke in any scenario. Death, rape, kidnapping, everything is funny, and it's never too soon to laugh. The "Sex Deviant", every day is hump day for this character. There's so many characters, so many personalities on Instagram. My mistake, was lumping the genuine and the concocted into one cesspool of wonder. 

Instagram turned me into a crazy person. Wanting what others had. I seemed to have forgotten, how even when I would post something as silly and simple as a "selfie", how long it took, how many shots it took, how many different angles it took, how many different *gulp* filters it took, to look Instagram ready. I was starting to think everybody else's real life was perfection. All this based on the smallest image of what someone WANTS you to see. As if in this, smaller then a post-it size, picture you could see "The Popular Girls" desire for a stable relationship, or "The Fun Guys" stack of final notice bills sitting just to the left of the frame, or "The Mom" who's kid is having more sex than she is, or the "Instagram Comedian" who thinks laughter, and prescription drugs are the best medicine, or "The Sex deviant", who wouldn't know where to stick it, if it came with directions. 

Pictures say a thousand words right? I temporarily disabled my Instagram, so I can re-enable what's good, what's right, and what's beautiful about real life.

If you're  looking for me, look up from your phone and I'll be there.

Deuces Tiffani D.

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