I have not-so-recently deleted the happiness parasite that is instagram. And i’m here to explain why you should too.
I shall begin with a critique of the infinite scroll, one of instagram’s most deadly features. Many a night I had found myself scrolling for hours down a never-ending page with a devil on my shoulder whispering “just one more”. The problem spilled over into the daytime too, with revision breaks becoming revision holidays
I also read somewhere that receiving an Instagram “like” is comparable to injecting your favourite narcotic. Was this true? Maybe not. But that sense of instant gratification sure is addictive, the shallow aspect of your nature is suddenly allowed to evolve into something ugly as you quickly message every group chat “like my picture or die” (alternatively something less dramatic will do).
Once thoroughly invested in the social microcosm of Instagram I realised that my addiction was fuelling something far worse than just screen inflicted eye damage. I was becoming more and more dissatisfied with my own lot in life. I am not just referring to the sigh of dismay I would let out upon finding that my latest post did not match the theme of my profile, rather the sigh of longing I would let-off at the sight of long, white beaches, banquets of healthy food and toned bodies. This issue was perhaps self-inflicted with my preference for accounts to follow leaning towards fitness accounts and people who lived on resort islands but these people are not the only culprits of setting unrealistically high aesthetic boundaries for living.
This is where your amigos come in. Do you remember that event you attended that was kinda fun but nothing to shout about? I can guarantee there’s a picture uploaded that makes it look like it was the best night of your life. I get it. It was cool to be seen there. The onset of envy from your peers was probably worth it. But did you even have that much fun there? Probably not.
Once you accept that what is on instagram is not representative of real life in any shape or form, you are one step closer to the cathartic release of the delete button. Not only do I argue that this will liberate you from a sense of inadequacy (although isn’t this argument enough?), I also point to Instagram as a creative space that kills creativity. Unoriginality and cliché run rife on the site, inspiring nothing but a culture of sheep-like following. Each sheep rearranges the frame in order to hide an ugly backdrop or the fact that those heels actually kill.
And last, but not least (This one’s for the grannies in the back), Instagram creates a distraction from genuine social interaction. I’ll leave this one here. We’ve heard enough of this argument.