Instagram. The new Facebook — which was the new MySpace, which was the new Aim, which was the new LIVE talking. It’s all the rage these days. It’s the way we show affection to those we love, throw jealousy at those we hate, and tell the world just how deeply inspirational, artsy, and deep we are. Not to mention cool. Yes, it proves just how much James fucking Dean we exhibit on a daily basis.
And without Instagram, think of how unfulfilling our lives would be. Every beautiful sight would just be a view to remember. Every great dinner with friends would just be an awesome memory. Every romantic gesture from your significant other would just be a step closer in your relationship. Every delicious food you eat would just be indulged privately.
Privately? Privately?! What is this blasphemous word that I had to force myself to type one slithering letter at a time? Why would we do anything if it means that it would be done privately? Without your friends, enemies, and frenemies hitting that ‘Like’ button, or even better, commenting that they are “So jealous!!” “Hate you!!” or are “So unbelievably proud of you and your accomplishments” what the hell is the point of doing anything?
I can think of few worse things in life than finding yourself somewhere amazingly, fantastically, fabulous, only to realize your cell phone is dead and, therefore, cannot snap perfectly already-squared photos that you can upload and subsequently make every single follower literally want to commit suicide rather than endure one more day as themselves and not you.
Trust me, there will be more posts on this subject to come, but for now, just remember: In the grand scheme of things, Instagram is just a forum for us to post things going on in our lives, not an application that we live our lives to impress.
Just kidding, Instagram is everything.