Sobering up

On my left, the phone is open on my instagram account. I went all the way down to my very first post, dated 10th April 2018. It's a beautiful artistic, yet very simplistic photo of a small journal with a pen on top of it. In the background you could see the pastel wall color, the shade from the curtain above, and the burgundy couch. The caption says: "It was finally time I had my own personal Instagram account. I have been hiding behind the business and work and commitments and responsibilities. But I have now decided to love myself a little bit more. Time for writing." 

On my right, a big notebook is open on its first pages, a plan of my first book from the year 2016, and a long list of topics and contents. 

If everything I lived has lead me to this very moment where I'm reminded of how much I need to do this writing this, than I am grateful, and dare I say, happy. 

I haven't posted anything on my instagram since 24th May. I am usually active, not crazy active, but active. There's a 101 reasons for me wanting and needing to write, yet all I seem to be doing is distracting myself from it. There's pain and a well of things to dig and feel and think out, and through, when it comes to writing. This account and that post, as I remember very clearly, was made to mark a certain passage, an end and a start of a new cycle, where I return to my self expression existence. But what was writing from that? Worlds apart!

It occurred to me this morning just how badly addicted our humanity has become to the so called social media. Instagram hearting, Facebook liking, youtube subscribing (or disliking), tweeting and retweeting, the follows, the likes, the comments, the stories, the reels, the views, the stats, the exposure, the clicking, the instant gratifications, the quick and fast and easy everything, the "content creating"! And boy did I fall into it the trap myself! 

Such slavery! Whatever they change, whatever new features they add, or old features they remove, we adjust. We resist at the start, but sure we persist. Such wasted resilience! A whole generation of youngsters are growing with this as the sole medium for self expression. We need to be seen so badly that we have fallen into the trap of the illusion of it happening virtually. 

I'm glad I'm sobering up. Instant gratification was never my thing. I need depth, pacing, slow motion, and a lot of pausing too. I need to create with my words pictures, sounds and motion. I need to invite and welcome people into my inner world with the slow pacing of words, and the magic that process creates. I need to express a very intricate world that exists in my mind and soul, with intricate words, and the right pacing.