no likes and no comments

social media is an outlet, so why do i try and glean every last crumb from its plate? instead of producing, i’m retrieving like a labrador. in this case, however, that dog is 16 years old and has arthritis, so fetch is doing the bones no favors.

it’s quite rewarding to consistently post and then look back and feel proud about the pictures, videos, and their corresponding captions. that is, until i peep at the statistics. then it’s a competition against who i’m following, or even against my older self. from my perspective as a musician, i want instagram to be about showcasing myself for myself to see. forget the followers and the growth. it’s a portfolio, constantly evolving to track progression as a human being in the 21st century. but i hesitate to practice what i preach. instead of uploading content, i’m stuck in the mud of “does this match the brand”, “people don’t interact with sunsets as much as group pictures”, and “the quality is grainy”. for a professional brand, these points would be correctly assumed. but i hate corporate.

the purpose behind my music, along with my mindset toward interaction, is to be encouraging, helpful, and honest. reality isn’t a crystal clear portrait. people don’t bamboozle with their friends from dusk ’till dawn. individuals aren’t static in their expression. so why, D K T, why are you going against the truths of organic exploration to exceed standards meant for grayscale powerpoint slides?

because i’m mistakenly handling social technology as a source of power, when in fact it’s a mechanism of release. i’m plucking feathers of confidence from its scaled skin (it’s not supposed to make sense). the interpersonal online network slithers like a threatened snake if you attempt to skin it alive for the black market goods of self-esteem.

declare opposite day and that serpent morphs into a westeros dragon, launching neural fireworks to new heights. creativity should implode within my soul, crush into neutrons, chemically combust, and blow back with shrapnel across the digital landscape. my account should have an overarching purpose mirroring my own, but be a maze of themes and obsessions, especially since i’m now officially diagnosed as bipolar (check me out). imperfections and nosedives are free to splatter strewn parts of my identity across those perfect square frames. that’s who i am. i’m enamored with the avenues and alleys of possibility. i’m the blood rushing out of our arteries toward thousands of veins in pursuit of renewal. i circulate through activities to keep the fresh rush of oxygen buzzing. to be awake is to depart from routine dreams so an untasted fruit can be devoured, then later remembered in those same REMs.

social media is a capable extension of the pioneer in all of us, but to employ that advantage, i have to marie kondo no likes and no comments. it’s painstakingly crucial i let go of the comparative pressures so i’m able to empower the joy of self-expression. only then will my hypocrisies shape-shift into my principles.


life ends. why pretend

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