Katherine McCabe / Gavel Media

Diatribe: Oops! I Deleted Instagram Again

It’s that time of year again, and I deleted Instagram. Maybe I’ll get even crazier and also delete Snapchat. (Queue the gasps) 

I know the horror; how could I ever intentionally remove myself from such a crucial social space? How will I know what everyone was for Halloween? How will I know who was screaming "Mr. Brightside" in the stands at the Duke game? And… get ready for it… how will I know who got asked to all the formals? 

Even so, I am all too familiar with my little Instagram hiatus. Maybe I’ll make it into a challenge for myself; it shouldn’t be too hard… right? Maybe like 4 days will do. After my short cleanse, I’m ready to get back into the social media world, and IMMEDIATELY an ex pops up on my stories. Yep, time to delete it again. Ok, let’s push it a bit more and try for 2 weeks. After the time passes, I download and open it again, and… ugh all the newly 21-year-olds are having the ~best~ times of their lives at Cisco. I can’t do it. This time we’re really going to go for it. 1.5 months should just about do it. I hardly even want to download it again because, frankly, I'm scared of what I’m going to find. But here we are, yet again. Deciding if I actually dare to lay my finger on the download button of that rainbow camera icon. But still, as always, I do it. 

And you’d never guess what I see when I redownload that godforsaken app for the third time. The worst thing a love-deprived college student could ever be subjected to: a "soft launch" of their crush in a relationship. I know, an absolute stab to the heart. The person I'm in love with the idea of and have barely talked to is taken. But aww, don’t you just love love? Yeah, me neither. 

I mean, really, isn’t it ridiculous that I would delete an app that constantly compares my life to other people’s at BC. With every Instagram square, I’m one step closer to chucking my phone into a lake. 

As I’m going on my res walk at the perfect sunset time, I reach down to my phone to snap a picture of the beautiful scenery. I return my phone to my pocket. But I feel an itch; it’s like an itch in your brain, and you know it can only be satisfied by a specific thing. The dreaded Instagram app. I just have to show the world my beautiful, never been done before, res sunset pic on my story. And the floodgates open again. It gets the gears turning, and I have SO many ideas for my end-of-semester dump. Don’t mind that it’s only the beginning of November. I’m definitely not planning out a Boston winter wonderland picture to add to the semester dump… 

I feel like I might be in a toxic relationship with Instagram. Or is it a breakup? Maybe we’re in a situationship right now. That feels right. On again, off again, I never really know where we stand with each other. But we always end up coming back to each other, for better or worse… but probably for worse. 

International studies major who's obsessed with dogs and coffee

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