The simultaneous back-and-forth opening and closing of another episode of Amazon Prime x The New York Times’ Modern Love and a dating app has been my day today. I got tired of waiting by the phone for my interest to text me. I was making myself nauseous from replaying the memories from last month that we shared together, trying to piece together the puzzle of what every little word and lingering glance has meant in the months we’ve known each other. In doing so, I was only flaring up my chronic illness more.
Instagram is like a bad ex-boyfriend.
things they don't understand
With recent tragedies, like the double mass shootings in Dayton and El Paso this last weekend, we’ve come to realize that the world is no longer cozy and safe. Baby boomers, like my grandma, easily recall times where mass shootings were unheard of. But now, it seems like a daily occurrence.
Often when I scroll down my friends’ Instagram feeds, I get this sudden gut-wrenching regret. But not because of them, but because of me.