A month ago, I finally executed what I’ve been preparing to do for the past year: to reclaim what was once my oasis on the internet.
Social media is everything you could and could not imagine it to be. For mine, it was a tool, a visual diary. One that is awfully similar to my actual journal: a detached perspective in a photograph, full of dull details. Sure, I color-grade my images and I read before I pen the words in the captions, but the curated life is not just mine to live. Most of us with online presence is running two realities now. And we have a whole app economy feeding our incessant need for new filters. So if I’m practicing “f*ck y’all, I don’t care what you think, say and do” in real life, might as well implement that digitally.
I started off awkwardly with a series of introspective write-ups wrapped up in ambiguity and ambivalence. I had to. That’s just how I start my path to clarity. I still am using a very vague tone at the moment, with no exact goal nor conclusion. As I whittle my own mini-trail onto some tree of a near future, I will take a good old friend’s recent advice: indulge in being coddled and cosseted.