Instagram has worn me out. I am a recovering addict that is naturally hooked by anything that can distract me from myself. Though it’s been over nineteen years since last indulging in drugs or alcohol, I still spar with other foes. That photo app has been professionally built to tap into the weaker parts of us to use us as pawns. It is sad how much time I (we) spend scrolling, liking, and getting tiny dopamine hits. I dream of ditching it all, but the “belonging” that I feel like I get in that community keeps me locked in… ugh.
So, I’ve tried to combat the algorithms and navigate the app to work with me. One of the ways that I have found a bit of peace is that I generally use the personal account for haikus with a photo. I have had enough people share with me, in person, that they enjoy them, that it helps me feel that these posts have some tiny bit of value. It is a digital notebook where I can deposit these little poetic thoughts. Quitting it all still entices me.
I’m up on Cloud Nine-
Yesterday, down in the dumps.
Oceans, we are waves.