I live my life through the medium of social media. I get up, I read my Twitter feed, check my Facebook, my Snapchat, my Instagram. I tut and sigh as I scroll through and berate people and their constant desire to let everyone know what they are doing at that exact moment. I refuse to do the same because it makes me feel like I’m a better person, when in reality, I’m probably not. I tell myself it isn’t about me, when in truth, it absolutely is.
I hate people. I hate what people do, what people say, and probably what people think. I often consider how great the world would be if everyone thought with the same logic as me. But social media would then be a vast, open space with nothing going on. I want to know what is going on in peoples live, and that bugs me more than anything else.
Does it come down to the fact that I just love moaning about other people, or am I genuinely interested in the lives of someone I met once several years ago? I don’t give a damn about your gap year, but also, I like to look at your photos from the top of a mountain somewhere in Indonesia and remind myself that I am better than you, and openly state it would give me great pleasure to push you off of the offending mountain range.
I don’t care that your boyfriend took you away to Venice for a couple of days, or that you can use a thesaurus properly and try to confuse me with your long words. You are not better than me. Sure, I can see you’ve lost weight, no thanks to your regular reminders. I didn’t ask for the update in the first place.
So, you went on a night out last night did you? How was it? Did you enjoy snapchatting the entire thing? Was the first photo you took really the one that ended up on Instagram?
What is this talking? Is it my hate for people, the hate for social media, or the hate for the way people act on social media? Because too often people are quick to state that this isn’t about them, but in a way, it is.
I wish I wasn’t concerned with how people reacted if I did such a thing on social media. I wish that I didn’t hate those who did it. Ultimately, sometimes I wish it would just all go away. Then I would get on my horse called Moral and ride off into the sunset. I might be smug about it then too.