frick you instagram

you see the glamour
the supreme
the drip
the gains
your bros showing off
and you can’t help
but feel left out

“cmon,” 
they say
“its where the honeys is at”
“give it a try yo”

simps,
friends,
crushes, 
strangers,
pretend girlfriends

i want more

you have to realize 
more never means good
post after post,
story after story,
like after like,
the mind will always want more
because us humans get bored easily 

remember from mean girls
when the ever so innocent 
cady 
tagged along with the plastics?
do you know what she had done?
do you know what she had become?   
she was one of them
obsessed with others
obsessed with fame 
obsessed with herself


obsession is just one 
of the repercussions
of something i like to call

the endless cycle of suffering

it goes 
some
thing 
like
this
:

you post a picture of yourself
you get 1 
2
3 likes
you count

within an hour its 100
bombarded with fire emoji comments

then you post on your story
girls and boys reply alike

one post turns into another post
another post
and then another post

your soon mesmerized by your followers
listening to them 
bowing down to them 
becoming a modern day slave

your soon obsessed about the little things
likes
followers
how you look in public
people taking 5 minutes to reply to your msgs  

so you get 
a sick haircut
tighter clothes
a badass personality
hoping to impress everybody

they go,
“yo nice drip g”
“that’s a sick cut boo”
“ooh i dig you bad boy”

but you become less concerned about the real,
your real family
your real friends
you are now
angry w/ them
arguing w/ them 

eventually

f  o  r  g  e  t  t  i  n  g  
t  h  e  m


trying to think of the last three words
to end this ramble
but i got nothing

frick you instagram.