Fake. I’m beginning to feel so fake. Wearing red lipstick, holding these roses, and pretending like the thorns on these stems don’t hurt my hands. Why? Because I know that holiday photos like Valentine’s Day pics will get a lot of likes on Instagram.
Ughhhh. Listen to me. I’m playing a game, I know it, I don’t like it and yet I’m STILL doing it!
You guys wanna hear the truth??? The truth is…Sam didn’t buy me these flowers. I bought these flowers for myself from Whole Foods for $19.99 (got a coupon for $5 off), forced Sam to drive all over our neighborhood to find a random spot to take this pic, and then we got in a fight along the way because he said that all I ever do is worry about taking pics for IG.
I was mad. Mad because he was right. Mad because I let the pressures of Instagram control me. Mad because I felt like…I still had to do it. Sigh.
Sometimes I feel like Instagram imprisons me to keep creating pretty content just for likes and comments – instead of creating content that matters to me. Sometimes I just want to write but I don’t have an accompanying photo…so I don’t write at all. Sometimes the stuff that matters to me most get the least likes. Sometimes the stuff that matters to me least gets the most likes.
Sometimes, I just don’t want to live for likes. I just want to live for me.
So, last night the real me didn’t want to go to a fancy dinner. The real me didn’t need roses to validate our love. Sam and I choose to stay in. We wore retro sweats and matching avocado shorts. We Postmated some Memphis BBQ with collard greens and creamed spinach. Our dinner left us with BBQ sauce under our fingernails and smothered around our lips. It may be not have been “instagrammable” but it sure was REAL.
And real feels so nice.