Hello. My name is @gavinfernando, and I am a recovering Gram-a-holic.
Instagram is like a disease.
A vile virus that causes chaos and destruction, leaving naught but a misleading self-portrait, aesthetically-pleasing brunch salad and $3000 Prada bag in its relentless path.
It’s the same as any fateful addiction. First you oppose it out of self-elevating moral righteousness. You know it’s bad for you, you know this stuff seriously messes with people, and you willfully remind yourself you’re that promising young honour student from a suburban Christian background with a promising future.
But then… but then something seduces you. You want to live dangerously. Someone else – that close friend – that friend you trusted – offers you that sweet first hit in the form of a sexily brightened-and-contrasted-and-Valencia’d-and-slightly-desaturated-and-maybe-mildly-LoFi’d-but-definitely-never-ever-Kelvin’d photo of you, and boom! You’re the suddenly-stunning love-child of Miranda Kerr and Ricky Martin.
And so you give in.
Just a photo of my smoothie, you say with naivety, as everybody else in your ironically-nameless inner-city café either follows suit or judges you viciously. Oh look! I’m at a party with attractive people! This will make me look social and upbeat and lively! Who doesn’t love people who are social and upbeat and lively!
I’m having a good hair day for the first time in six months. Surely this deserves a tiny little selfie? I owe it to the people. I owe it to my hairdressers and their miraculous work on my weave. I’m stimulating small businesses. I’m basically a business executive. I’m doing my part for the economy. My selfie is saving the world. I have to do this. World hunger needs me.
Hello. My name is @gavinfernando, and I am a recovering grade-A wanker.
Suddenly, life wasn’t life unless it was documented on social media. For every social gathering, Instagram was constantly at the back of my mind. I became that person. That person who was talking and laughing and having fun on the outside, but on the inside was secretly working himself into a flustered frenzy, wondering which angle-filter-lighting-filter-adjustment-filter-filter combo could make this little gathering or situation appear that extra bit hip. Observe:
Caption: ‘Birthday weekend. It got gloriously messy.’
Reality: I just want to be in bed with Season 5 of Friends and a big bag of Red Rock Deli chips.