Instagram has rewired my brain.
It is the first thing I do when I wake up, it is the last thing I do when I go to sleep. I don’t actually enjoy it: my eyes hurt from the glowing screen, my hands cramp from holding my phone up constantly, and my psychological state has declined dramatically.
Moments are no longer experienced. Moments are viewed, captured, posted, promoted, shared, storied. There is a constant sense of anxiety and urgency, resulting in rewards of likes and comments or blows to the ego when a post bombs. Any sense of prediction has been diminished: connection with the audience is no longer determined by a personal preference but by an automated expectation of what you may potentially want to see. It creates fears of scarcity, of comparison, and it is all an illusion.
👓 A PSA, A Rant, A Declaration, and An Email You Didn’t Expect in Your Inbox | hautemacabre.com
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