R was a bit of an "influencer" on a social media platform. I think it was a big part of his demise too. It became a big part of his daily life. Today I paused a video he screen recorded for me that revealed the notifications on his phone. It said he spent an average of over 8 hours a day on his phone, which seems like a lot to me.
I had noticed how he airbrushed his face for videos and photos, even though he was attractive without it. He asked me so many times to appear in videos with him. Maybe he thought a woman would help increase his views, or he wanted to borrow my creativity. I said no. I had no interest in that at all.
When his skin turned yellow and he lost weight, after not seeing each other in person for a couple years, I had just arrived and was on his couch, and all he wanted to talk about was the fucking social media site and videos. "I don't want to look at a screen, I AM RIGHT HERE," I said.
Social media swallowed him whole. He was a perfect victim because he desperately needed attention and likes, so he became addicted. His relationship to social media kind of always troubled me, although I never really said so outright, because it seemed like it was his only creative outlet, so I didn't want to diminish it.
Lately I was thinking how even though I'm clearly grieving and not exactly my best self lately due to that, I still think I'm happier/saner than when I used social media. And that's nuts.
I think it affects everyone in different ways. For some it's comparison and competition. For some it's "likes" they crave. For me, I became increasingly disturbed by all the human suffering, even though I'd done a pretty good job of attempting to customize my feed experience. Maybe everyone was posting drunk in quarantine, because there were many thoughtless reposts, and I learned a lot about people I wished I could unsee. And the harassment by one drunk guy who flooded my inbox every day telling me he's suicidal after bullying me after I shared my weekly nature video .003 milliseconds after I posted. That guy, along with the stalker, motivated me to abandon social media entirely. I remember telling the first guy 'I don't blame you, I blame the algorithm.' I ended up blocking him anyway.
That's just way too much drama and noise for someone like me to enjoy using an app. I'd happily PAY for an app, if it were actually fun or made my life better. I pay for a meditation app, a dance app, and I'd consider paying for diaryland, because journaling is therapeutic and cathartic and good.
There are ways to enjoy the internet without being a victim of it. I feel safe here if only because my messy negative grief essays don't exactly scream "influencer." I'm not writing this in a cute swimsuit on a beach, or having much fun grieving, so there's nothing to invite jealousy or passion. All I do is type words, and too many of them, enough to send people away yawning. And that makes me feel safe. I actually thrive on neglect these days. I am perhaps the opposite of an influencer.
11:22 p.m. - 2022-11-10