Dear Social Media,

I loaded you on my phone in order to be like all the rest of the people in this world. Im now able to tweet, upload photos, like, favorite, snap and share. Everything. Anything I want to. I’m able to see what others choose to do with this freedom of deciding to “Register an Account” and “Enable Notifications." I thought it was all fun and games, following all my friends and family, posting what I was doing, tweeting all those lyrics that made me feel good, and liking all my friends photos that I was included in. One post lead to more, one like lead to one hundred, and 10 followers lead to 10,000.

I never expected anything to be of harm, until you took control.

You told me to keep looking, to keep following, to keep checking.

You told me to post one, and if I did not reach one hundred or more likes, to delete it because obviously the picture wasn’t good enough.

You told me to express myself, to write 140 characters of what happened in my life, what someone did to me, but don’t say their name.

You made her look perfect with the filters. You made his life look luxurious with your different angles. You made them look happy even though they might have been fighting.

You lied to me.

I kept checking, I kept trying, to impress to make myself look better than others, to make myself more “like"able, to be better. But I was at my best.

I didn’t see what was so wrong every time I scrolled through my feed and made a fool of myself when I looked at picture of someone and compared their “life” to mine. Their presents they’d post, the friendships they had, the things they got to do. Why couldn’t I be them? Or worse, why wasn’t I invited?

I kept checking though. I kept posting. My emotions, they feel darker and darker and it was all because I was open to do so and no one was stopping me.

I kept posting, but for an hour before I’d stare and make sure that what was about to be uploaded was better than the last, was better than everyone else's, was perfect. But perfection was something a picture could not obtain.

You took my life and presented it as something everyone else should have when they had their own, and worse, you presented everyone else’s life as something I should be living when I was breathing, seeing, and feeling my own. It's a shame, that you were supposed to be fun, you were supposed to keep me occupied, but instead you drove me crazy. I should have never loaded you, but I can’t get away from you for some reason. There’s so much that's good about you, but behind it, all is bad. You keep me connected to everyone, but too connected. You let me see what everyone’s up to, but make me feel like I am up to nothing special.

My life is my own. What I choose to make of it, and you cannot fool me to think otherwise anymore.