Bless This Mess...

The Coronavirus and Racism are not the only pandemics currently happening. What is this other infectious disease most of us succumb to, you may ask? Instagram. 

            We are in the age of the internet, where the self-worth of millions of young people is anchored to the amount of likes and public interaction they receive. It would be a little more reasonable if any of this mattered in real life to these people, but it seems to be exclusively online. As a matter of fact, the exact opposite situation seems to happen in reality. People who are normally real-time recluses are the loudest on the internet. It’s quite bizarre.

            The instant gratification breeds self-esteem that is found in the number of likes one gets from others. I won’t lie and say that I don’t feel a little like Salt Bae when I get a low level of likes on my posts, but apparently that’s normal. 

Science says that the number of likes we get on social media is directly proportional to transmission of dopamine in our brains. You know, the same dopamine that controls our “reward system”. Every time we see a new like, a new comment, hell, anytime we used to hear “YOU’VE GOT MAIL” shouted at us in an unreasonable decibel in the 90s (all my 80s babies, don’t act like you didn’t read that in your AOL voice), we take a generous shot of dopamine. Dopamine is the chemical responsible for the drive to seek desire and pleasure, so the releasing of this neurotransmitter is just like being “rewarded” with your favorite comfort food, or a text from your most recent eff-boy, or the orgasm he provides you before he ghosts you for a few days, or an actual crack rock. When you get addicted to drugs, or that one guy from Hinge, dopamine links the experience with the stimulus: in this case, social media.

I said all that to say this: people largely talk about the highlights in their lives. Don’t let people fool you into thinking they are happy. They’re not. Married people aint happy. Single people aint happy. Parents sick of their kids. Workaholics are depressed. People with no job are hopeless. No one is happy. That may be a little exaggerated but bear in mind that the moment you think any of this is real is the moment you lose. There is more to life than putting on for people, most of whom you don’t know or don’t like. This is also a contribution to the depression that stems from this plague. People are comparing their real lives to what others WANT THEM TO SEE. I started this blog to tell y’all that I am definitely a real person, though my pics are all flawless. 

LOL, I’m kidding again. But everyone uses photoshop to remove their nipples out the pic and the dark spots that their glasses leave on their face (maybe just me). NOT everyone is cinching their waist, though, and making their booty look like it was sponsored by Spalding. Or at least they shouldn’t.

Just don’t forget, people know you in real life too….

Your life is not inferior just because it seems like other people are living their best lives. Ask the Lord to bless your mess and then keep it moving.

But hey, what do I know?

Shoutout to them freshmen, on Instagram straight flexin’! 

*Kanye shrugs*