Sometimes I want to completely abandon this journal and do something new, but then I imagine coming back to it 15 years from now and being disappointed with how little I have to read. I may be disappointed either way. I’ve always thought these journals would eventually become the content for a book I will one day write but what if when that time comes I take an honest look at it all and realize I haven’t come up with anything original? It seems like everything is a recycled idea these days. With Twitter for example, which has become a real aspect of life, we all know what we’re supposed to say. On October 3rd we’re supposed to quote Mean Girls, on May 4th we talk about the force of Star Wars, on the last day of class we post our grades, when it’s raining we don’t go to class - we only watch Netflix, when we’re drunk we name drop, on holidays we tell everyone how thankful we are, when we’re hungry we ask the Twitter universe to bring us food knowing all well no one is going to show up at our door… the list goes on and on. Of course, there are those of us who try to fight the system, who try to be witty and point out the ridiculousness of this culture, all the while still hoping to get the most favorites or retweets on our rebellion. You can’t even be original when you’re trying to be original because we are all trapped within the expectations of social media.
In the summer everything is so green and beautiful, and yet before I would dare post a nature picture to Instagram I have to enhance it to make everything GREENER. So green that it’s unnatural; the natural color wasn’t going to get me any likes. Are people starting to confuse their realities? We only like the edited versions of our lives. Unedited versions of pictures are only for Facebook, and your family are the only ones who like them, and that’s only because they have to. Or is it? Perhaps… brace yourselves… our families are some of the few who still appreciate the natural beauty of our everyday lives. I know times are changing but why is it so unpopular to question if things are changing for the better?
Social media has become a drug and I’ve become an addict. I want so badly to delete every account, quit cold turkey, live my life free from the pressures and expectations of my peers, but then I find myself saying… “I have to keep Facebook because I have family on there and that’s really the only way to stay connected with people from childhood, high school, and college.” I’m never going to completely stop drinking alcohol because it’s really just like a social thing, it would be weird if I went out and never had a drink or two. It makes everyone more comfortable.” I could always unfollow everyone I actually know on twitter and stop tweeting but I should probably still follow like news stations and celebrity gossip because I still want to stay up to date.” I’ll stop doing the hard drugs like meth and cocaine but a little marijuana is good every now and then, it relaxes me. “I definitely want to keep Instagram but really only because I’ve been thinking about taking up photography as a hobby. I could always just keep the pictures to myself but doesn’t that defeat the purpose of photography? Doesn’t it?” It’s only a problem if I use alone. If I’m with friends it’s just recreational. This last concept really hits the hardest.
Why do we need validation from likes, favorites, and retweets? This is such a superficial way to nourish self-confidence especially since we’ve already established that nothing we post on social media these days is an original idea. I want to be present, in the real world, fulfilled by my own experiences, to appreciate my life for what it means to me. Who cares if no one is liking the Instagram I just posted of my book and the water fountain in front of me? That shouldn’t matter. What matters is I’ve been sitting here for 3 hours doing things that put me at peace and make me feel whole. I hope I have the strength to live my life for me. To do things that I find exciting and worthwhile regardless of whether society “likes” it.
I think I loved to write about you more than I loved you.
And I honor the truth so much
that it hurts to admit this.
But what happens when someone makes me forget your name?
My journal stayed blank because sadness quit singing me to sleep.
And my pen quit aching in my hand
at the thought that maybe love isn’t found in a mess of 26 letters.
After probably two years of having this page… I am going to start posting some of my own pictures and writing. I hope people take to it.