wrote this down this morning. trying to find joy in things that aren't picture perfect, like my sudoku lols.
It’s kind of ridiculous, really-feeling lost so early in my twenties. But I think social media has a lot to do with it. I’ve written about comparison before, but I don’t mean influencers or celebrities. I mean the girls next door. Girls I passed on campus. The ones who always seemed put together, always seemed to be having fun. They balance work and life and don’t appear to lie in bed with dread.
At the Galway Arts Festival the other day, I watched one of them dancing-arms outstretched, moving with rhythm and ease. One of those people who just seems to get it. Like she’s lived before and knows how to move through the world without ever getting in the way. Watching her, I wondered what it would feel like to move through the world like that-unapologetic, unhindered, like the rhythm of life came naturally. Meanwhile, I stood beside her twin in spirit: clumsy, uncertain, trying to capture a moment I wasn’t quite part of. Beside her, a man kept trying to zoom in on the band with his cracked phone, fumbling the angle, making a blur of the moment. I felt more akin to him-trying, but embarrassingly so.
And yes, I know social media is a highlight reel. I know those girls probably cry, get anxious, and stumble too. But when your camera roll hasn’t been updated in weeks, when your pictures are flat and forgettable, it’s easy to feel like you’re missing out on living.
I’ve tried to reason with myself: I don’t go out much. I don’t like how drinking makes me feel anyway. I can’t seem to style my clothes the way others do, but I like my oversized knits and Uggs more than jeans. I don’t have a big group of friends-but the few I do have matter.
And in many ways, I’m lucky. I’m starting my master’s in September. Still, I lie awake refreshing my email, convinced I’ve already messed something up. At least I have a plan-for now. It stretches until next summer. After that? A blank space. I hate the question about what job I’ll have. I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m good at, or what’s good for me.
Right now, I’m just filling up the pages of my planner, moving season by season. Hoping that at some point, I’ll stop feeling like the blurry footage, and start moving like the girl with her arms outstretched.
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