My Facebook makes me look so capable. According to Facebook I am smashing life. I have a great degree, I can make beautiful dresses, and take beautiful pictures. I travel, I’m funny, I’m quirky, I have a bustling social life and I don’t need no man except my football team. I make mistakes, sure, but my mistakes have no consequences, and they serve only as inspiration for hilarious anecdotes. Even my weaknesses, such as procrastinating, are humorously and creatively documented, and after all, I get HDs in the end.
All of these things are true, but Facebook gives me the toxic ability to filter what I show the world, so they only see the best side of me. Facebook sees that I have an amazing dad and we have a great relationship, it doesn’t see how profoundly bad I felt when I didn’t heed his advice.
Facebook sees a beautiful dress I made but doesn’t see that the reason I made it was because I wanted to distract myself from the fact that I skipped class because I couldn’t handle the pressure of going when I hadn’t done my readings.
Facebook sees a beautiful picture of me that I took during free time on a saturday afternoon but doesn’t see that it was only taken because I was home alone, and I had convinced myself that nobody wanted to spend time with me. It doesn’t see the 20 minutes I spent writing and rewriting the perfect caption for it. It doesn’t see me crying because I am lonely and I hate my need for external gratification and it doesn’t see the fact that every time someone likes my picture part of me tells me that I am wonderfully talented, part of me tells me that I am a pathetic piece of shit for needing attention and part of me feels a stab of guilt, because I know that my Facebook is a facade.
