When they say social media is toxic, they were not joking. Pages and pages of Facebook, Instagram, Tiktok, Linkedin, Pinterest, whatever you want it to be, are rife with people posting their picture perfect life and the resume of all their achievements like medals hung in their parent’s house.
How can you not feel like garbage after seeing someone you knew from high school doing better than you? After seeing that shitty human being who told you were nothing, getting a full ride to their dream college? That person who begged for sympathy about the pennies in their pocket, only to see them relaxing in their parent’s pool behind their million dollar house?
I can’t. I know that about myself.
Especially after trauma has knocked all my self esteem down the lowest bar, I might as well tango with the devil. And I laugh at the time I took to heal because it made me realize that I don’t have the police reports to prove something or anything. Social media is the fucking garbage disposal grinding up my heart and flushing it down the drain.
That social media is like an arrow shot through me to make excuses for everything I have yet to become. And it is that becoming I invest my everything into; that I do not strive to obtain banality or comfort, but everything that twists me out of shape and forces me to grow.
I tell myself that I have crawled from the pit of hell with bloodied hands and pulled the sword from my own chest. I tell myself I am unafraid to look at myself.
But I am afraid to compare myself because I cannot lie to my face in the mirror.