Is this all that my life has came to?
A series of fleeting moments, all scattered on a facebook page
We can view ourselves in different ways, each photo displaying a memory; a history
Of the smiling faces, some masked with the poison of a good time
And the cascading birthday messages, with the humour and fear of a bad photo going very wrong
My university life is spread across a continuous scroll
With the occasional meet up of the ghosts of my past life; the city and the people that I once called home
My life seems grander now, with more worldly views
But yet I can’t help but see that I am still in a perfect bubble
University life is exactly that; it’s a way of adulthood without being an adult
And with it comes the nights of drinking, of the wild stories and how you travelled to a foreign place at three in the morning just because you felt like getting away from it all
And now that’s what my Facebook shows me; the wild nights, the holidays and the drinking.
But it does not show my imperfect moments; of the times it got too much; when I failed that class; when I was left two-hundred pounds in my overdraft because the flights turned out to be too much money.
It does not show me how I fell out with the old ghosts of my past, and how I get messages asking for us to ‘meet up’, as if that will ever happen any time soon
It does not show how that boy I fell for six months ago still has me blocked on all social media platforms
But that’s the point, isn’t it?
It’s a trap; a way to show that you’re perfect without being perfect.
And I still fall for it; for that social media bubble
It haunts me, and everyone else in my generation, with the constant pressure to advertise themselves;
To have their own perfect social media bubble
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