Dear Instagram,
I don’t really know how best to say this, but I think we need to take a break. I’ve wanted to sit down and write this for days now, but I was instead caught up in editing photos that I’ll likely never post — photos that you make me feel aren’t good enough for the world to see.
I’ve been trying as hard as I can to make this work, but I feel as though I’ve lost a part of myself in our relationship. When I first met you nine years ago, I never thought you would be addictive or a source of anxiety. And, while you’ve often made me laugh or allowed me to harness my creativity, I shouldn’t care how many likes and comments I get on my posts. I shouldn’t stress over what my account looks like because no one cares as much as me — certainly not you. It’s taken me too many years and wasted hours to figure this out.
I tried, but I can’t go on like this. It’s just too painful. We fight every day, over stupid things like why there aren’t more puppy photos on my “Explore” page. We end up hurting each other’s feelings every time we talk, like when your algorithm assumes what photos I’ll want to see. You don’t seem to understand my problems, and I often don’t understand yours. Why can I only change my name up to two times every two weeks?
I think it will be better if we go our separate ways — at least for a little while. No matter how many times other people’s feeds make me feel lousy about my life or I chicken out from posting something trivial, you are the first thing I open whenever I pick up my phone. My thumb just finds you, and you don’t ever tell me “no.” You’re deceitful and selfish, and you should’ve been upfront about what our relationship would look like from the beginning. Instead, you’ve turned me into the bad guy. You’ve made me blame myself for my weakness and need for approval. You’ve become such an important part of my everyday life, and it’s simply not healthy.
Nevertheless, I am going to miss you a lot. Life is going to be strange without seeing you for at least two hours every day. Take care of yourself. Or don’t, but it’s time I take care of me.
Regards,
Sydney