Social Media Anxiety

Hands up, who’s been personally victimised by social media?

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Social media is a tempestuous beast that has managed to wrangle us into her web of egotistical bullshit and my god I love. She is the Regina George of social activity: The more she hurts you or demeans you in anyway, the more you try to impress her, wearing chicken cutlets, lip-gloss, and all pink to become popular.  For a mind obsessed with getting it right, it’s a fucking nuisance.

Occasionally a friend will pop up on my timeline and make those sweeping goddamn gestures that last roughly a day: “I am leaving social media. If you need me, call me.” It lights up synapses in my brain like a fucking car crash. The idea of blissfully stripping my brain naked of the confines of re-tweets quivers my bosom so.

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But I am a creature of garbage and am desperately cloying for attention. I literally print off likes from my Facebook posts, sluice them down until they are greasy oil, spread them on a wooden splintered floor and writhe around in them. I live for social media because, on the one hand, it is the ultimate ego boost. The other because if I am not in constant communication with the human race, particular my friends and the vibrant film industry, my brain would explode in a firework display of fleshy parts. You are caught between wishing to have balance by being able to put it down and being Steve Tyler (… don’t wanna miss a thing…yeah, OK.) Social media IS the city that never sleeps and you could leave it for a day and find yourself behind the curve.

It is exciting yet exhausting all at the same time. As many articles would suggest, social media can be bad for you, especially before bed (which is ironic as that is when you always ALWAYS read those type of articles, packaged helpfully by gifs because how else can you consume science?) There is literal research that suggests social media is like a drug, finger fucking your dopamine centres until you orgasm at the sight of retweets. Plus social media is so imperative right now for business and artists that you are horrendously remiss if you ignore it OR abuse it. Over spamming can turn people off (plus you sound like a robotic advert who knows how to hashtag) whereas brevity leaves you dry as the Sahara’s vagina.

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For a person with both a fame hungry ego and a precarious mental health, social media is a sordid flame and I am the trashy moth. It is both a remarkable way of finding or reuniting with friends as well as delivering your product and a way of spreading hate quicker than herpes. Spending a day on social media could very well be ingenious or could pull you head first through the arsehole of troll shite. There is no in between. Part attention seeker and part giggly shy nerd, my objective is to play the game and not get jealous when I see people play it better.
It is to look at it like a canvas where ideas; where wit, intelligence, and more romp freely and you have to stay and curve into the blissful stream, remembering to pull your head out and not drown or become wrinkly. But I believe it was the great Pocahontas that sang something about something (white Americans) being just around the river bend. In the case of social media, it’s a condom and disease infected sewage pipe where you’ll eventually be fed to the ravage raccoons.

We should all learn to paddle away a bit more. 


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