Dear Internet

I wrote this a few nights ago when I was feeling sad. I don’t know if I ever intended it for here but what the heck! I don’t know about you but the Internet sometimes sends me in full downward spirals. A little more about what’s going on with me – That Super Moon!! Did you see it!? Man, I’ve always love astronomy but that was something special. Also, I’m house hunting at the moment so I hope to keep up on here and YouTube but, if it all quietens down, it’s only for a brief moment I promise. Anyway, here is my letter to the Internet, written by the green-eyed monster within:

Dear Internet,

You make me really jealous.

I sit on my sofa night after night pouring over your successes, the wealth of goods you have to offer. You sometimes make me feel like I’ve not worked hard enough, like I don’t have enough, like I’m not enough.

I feel envy when I flick though blogs of pretty girls ‘done good’. I know you don’t mean to make me feel like this and I know this isn’t always, but you do a damn good job at twisting the knife when I’m feeling at my worst.

Why are all the girls’ doe eyed and beautiful, Internet? Why do they all have brand deals and perfect houses and seemingly perfect everything? Slender and slinky, they’re all dipping in and out of pools, away on adventures, dripping with jewels and gold. All whilst I sit at my desk, working myself to exhaustion. I’m not silly, I can see past the veneer, but it’s all too much sometimes.

Why are all the boys’ tall and lean, in their shiny shoes and stylish clothes? I bet they take flowers home for their partners and cook dinner twice a week. Everything you do just seems to be pointing right at the things that are missing from my life. Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky, I have enough. But when I see that girl on the beach with her perfect boyfriend, or that perfectly shot flat lay of a dinner, something twinges inside me.

I don’t know what to do with you Internet; I love you and loathe you. This note is as much for me as it is for you. I need to remember you simply exhibit a glossy façade of the truth. I only need to think about the past month when on receiving compliments on my own Instagram how many times I’ve said ‘oh but it’s not real’. Days like today though you don’t help. Not one bit.

You’re like an old friend, Internet. The kind of friend I can’t give up on now matter how much I want.

I know you don’t mean it, Internet. Maybe we should go grab a coffee sometime, maybe? Right now I feel like you have some grovelling to do.

Love always, even when I hate you.


1 comment:

  1. I know *exactly* what you mean. It's like when you look at an advert in a magazine of this wonderfully Photoshopped woman... you have to remind yourself that it's not real, but you can't help but wish you looked that good!


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