By: Bessan Abdel-Aziz
I remember the old days of begging my mom to have an Instagram account. My mom, protecting me from the world, decided no. Until I begged and begged and she eventually caved in. Oh God, I did not know what I was in for.
The excitement of creating my own account, creating my username, and setting my own identity. It was amazing. It was different. It was all fun and games in the beginning. Being so young and innocent, thinking what fun an app will bring. Connecting with friends and seeing influencers’ lives.
Many post their vacations, their bodies, and their luxurious lifestyles. And here I was, in boring Clifton, New Jersey. Stuck at school. The only fun I had was going to work.
Instagram Notification: Kim Kardashian Posted
Instagram Notification: Kylie Jenner Posted a New Story
Instagram Notification: FitWellness Posted a Video
The notifications were never-ending. I became brainwashed like many young people. I thought the virtual likes defined you. The unrealistic expectations of ideal body images. It was an endless toxic cycle. Who could live like that?
Call me sensitive, call me insecure, or call me crazy, but this could not continue.
Hitting the unfollow button has been my favorite activity lately. Never seeing these accounts brought me joy. Was there anyone else I left out? I do not care.
After unfollowing the accounts, I realized my Instagram feed became dry. My friends and family were not posting. It all clicked. Many of them were on Instagram, looking at the same influencers. We were not on the app for us, we were on it for them.
There was no point in keeping the account active. It was time to say my farewells. Actually, let me not tell anyone. Leaving silently will be loud enough.
Who knows? I may come back. I may not. It depends. Leaving Instagram was therapeutic.
Goodbye Instagram. I hope to never meet again. I’m sorry mom. I should have accepted the answer no.