Stuck on a plane

I’m stuck on a flight. I’ve been trying to get to Los Angeles from Madrid for maybe 24 hours? Or more, I think?

I’m not bilingual. Maybe I will be one day. But I’m not fake either. And I want you to realize that this is the truth. How basic of me? Why do you want to hear about a random college girl’s life? I don’t know. Why do we read blogs or watch YouTube? Because we learn through other people’s experiences. And we also want to escape our lives whenever we have the chance.

The Verdad means the truth in Spanish. I am obsessed with reading blogs about other people’s lives. Maybe I’m too voyeuristic. I want to see if I can experience what other people go through because I spend all my time thinking about myself. I’m so selfish. But let’s be real, aren’t we all? We only TRULY have ourselves to worry about without our significant others and families (or dogs which are most important).

I’m just kind of sick of people being fake. And I don’t even think it’s an intentional thought, but when I scroll through Instagram, it puts me back in high school. And I don’t ever want to go back to that place.

Like, ok we get it, you have a bomb ass body. I’m all for #bodypositivity but what are we promoting? Why do we need to post pictures of our bare bodies posed perfectly to get that booty in there, for likes? I don’t want anyone to think that I don’t think it’s not empowering or just plain sexy AF. But I’m going to be honest before when I struggled body issues, these images permeated in my brain constantly. Swipe up for me. Every second.

I saw those pictures, or traveling photos, and thought- will I ever be this happy? And of course, this is like the ~*deep*~ thinking of Instagram and it doesn’t have to be thought of intensely or scrutinized profusely, but I cannot deny now that it did affect me. And if it happened to me at least at one point causing me to feel insecure, I can’t be alone? There are millions of girls now growing up in a new age with cell phones and apps and a bombardment of a million of options. A million photos, stories, and opinions CONSTANTLY. Just look around! Of course, this argument isn’t new, but it was on my brain.

I deleted the app awhile ago but that got it back to make a private instagram (only for my friends) and I still kept thinking, why? Why am I posting this? I love to keep up with my friends and family but why do I have to share my picture to do that? Can’t I just message them directly or maybe see them IRL? In real life? For a coffee, maybe?

I have mixed feelings about social media because of course, I love to share photos and stay #connected in the World Wide Web, but I feel I spend so much time straining my eyes on this tiny little box! What is it giving me? And I truly think I’m addicted. Like I sleep it with it next to me.

Now I’m just spewing random words.

I’m writing this on my phone notes on a flight from Toronto to Los Angeles. I’ve had a crazy two months. I will write another post about Madrid, my love, and other random tidbits I learned through traveling by myself. Not like you care that much. But, maybe you should? Because we could be friends? Internet friends. (I’ve had a lot of coffee and feeling isolated from traveling alone so just give me a break).

BRB. Xoxo


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