16 days without Instagram
Remember back in 1998 when you simply trusted that someone would be home if you forgot your keys? You knew routines. You chucked a quarter in the payphone at the subway and your friend Laura promised she would be at the same spot you always met. The Cube on Astor Place. You knew your sister was home sick from school because she told you that morning and you could just imagine all the fun she was having. You would get home and ask “So how was your day? What did you do?” And there would be details and stories to hear. Or the time you weren’t really hungry because you were too busy drawing some doodle in your marble notebook,inspired by nothing but your own pure imagination and memories of the drug fiends at the corner store near your apartment in the Bronx.
And looking at that drawing,chuckling,not wondering if it was good enough,to some
standard of some artist on Instagram but simply enjoying the act of drawing.
It’s 2019 now. Just almost a decade from a freer time. A time when,you didn’t know what was happening all the time,and you were ok with that.
Or just enjoying a meal. Admiring the colors on your plate,finding pleasure in how the beets paint the white of the saucer,and not having to share the beauty,with anyone but you. Finding pleasure in..enjoying the moment,just because,it feels nice,right now. You don’t need to burn it into a capsule for new followers to creep into. It’s all yours,these memories. No one can say,or wonder how things ended in your last relationship,or why you haven’t posted a photo with your love in almost 3 weeks.
This is how it feels to not be on Instagram.
What you’re wearing is perfect. Your face is perfect. The validation you seek,is inside of you. Amplified by the guidance of books by Louise Hay,the Tarot deck on your altar,and the spirit guides that remind you that you are alive for a reason.
You’re not so damn insecure. Comparing how many double taps your photo achieved. I’m speaking for myself and maybe another 1 million who won’t admit that to their spouses.
You have time. Lots. The time you used to spend scrolling through your feed and memes about lives seemingly better than yours on Friday nights,are now in an abyss at the back of your mind. Names and faces you can’t recall because you feel pretty good just being contacted by the only 2 people you avidly text everyday,and that’s more than enough.
The real friends reach out and call or text and ask how you are doing. The other ones wait to see if you ever come to their real world,of cyberspace. If you died,they won’t know. You don’t have to produce,or have angles for a selfie,or make sure the lighting is ok.
Your zits,are welcome here,in this old world. There is no like button on the sidewalk. The only meter of validation you follow,is the one staring at you in your bank account. You worked fucking hard today. And Dam it shows.
Your partner came home today and hugged you. It matters. The silence in the car is ok. Your hands are free,tapping beats on the dashboard as she drives home. In fact,you’re so focused,on not being focused on what other people are doing that you actually lost 10 pounds. 10 pounds gone because you weren’t mindlessly self indulging in potato chips as you numbed your mind with photos of people traveling to Thailand and wishing you were with the elephants too.
You wish for nothing,but this feel good moment. Right now,present ♥️
