What about my Facebook?

I just finished perusing that delightful online portal that shoves into our faces the lives of friends and strangers alike.
At 23 years old I am far from understanding myself. I sometimes imagine I am confident in who I am — independent, strong, intelligent, sexy, and so, so cool. This revelation occurs once in a while, usually when I’m most fit — the skinniest version of me, acne free, and happy with my wardrobe. This revelation also tends to occur when my finances are in order and all loose ends are tied up (be it at school, or in the office).
However. Within ten minutes of obsessively clicking from photo to photo of “friends” with lives drastically cooler than my own, the sweet self-content in which I briefly reveled turns into a green, sticky goo that makes me feel overweight, ugly, pimply, and pathetic.
While the inner mirror that is Facebook brings out the harshest critic, I can’t help but apply a certain social value to my own photographs. Who will frantically click through mine?? Who will think, “I wish I was as cool as her??”
I allow myself one small pity party (the latest led to this blog), then tell myself I sound like a high schooler, declare to never use Facebook again, slam shut my laptop, open my phone, and check the latest status updates, say a quick prayer that I won’t always be this bitterly self-absorbed, and promise to head to the gym in the morning!
A shower and a margarita later… I feel much better. About everything. Happy summer everyone. For now, I have chosen to forget about Facebook and all the insecurities that go with it.
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