the end of my finsta came abruptly and unceremoniously on a night i got too high in college. it started simply enough, with an aching for the past and a will to visit the girl i’d grown estranged from since leaving my hometown. i took a deep dive into the archives, back to the inception of the account i’d used as a pseudo-diary since fourteen. i met the girl i thought i missed. and she was not doing well.
Teaching high schoolers elicits this feeling for me; I swear I see little me walking the halls, desperately trying to get anyone to look at me.
oh my god i felt this last month i painstakingly archived my whole finsta post-by-post (also after getting too high) because i came to a similar realization, but still i archived the posts instead of deleting them because a sick part of me needed to hang on to a handful of times when i was semi hot and/or funny and got like 20 likes. sad!
"there is a reason that the venn diagram between buddhist monks and active social media users does not intersect. every post is a cry for help." felt
"I thought that casting a lasso into the ether would tether me to some eternal truth"-- wow, drag me (this was lovely though and the opening line had me loling)
"as a voyeur to the spiral, you’re in on the joke. you have access to information that the spiraling person doesn’t have — you see the disconnect between how they believe they’re coming across and how they actually are.". whew this invoked something in me i didn't realize was there
i have come back to read this so many times and every time it hits just as deep. thank you for articulating this complex reality in such an accurate and profound way (as you always do!!) lots of love to all my fellow mental illness finsta babes <3
sent me into a spiral to find my own finsta, can not find it and am not spiraling about my digital footprint that is untraceable to only me