Social Media as an Art Gallery

Are we willing to subject ourselves to the same cycle—overshare, hate hate hate, rinse, repeat—for the sake of a higher position in social media’s good graces?

Recently, I’ve been fighting the temptation to monetize my heartache.

I’ve been on a journey this past month that I know a lot of folks online could sympathize with. Maybe not in the same way my parents do (sorry, Mom, for keeping you up at night with worry), but still. And it’s not something that I actually want to share publically; it’s something for me to go through, with those closest to me, alone. But when social media is your job, when you have a platform, no matter how small, the little devil in your ear is always whispering while you’re crying yourself to sleep: “I bet if you recorded this, you’d get thousands of likes, wouldn’t you?”

We’ve always admired people more in their nakedness. Photos of folks showing some skin, comfortable and happy, get likes that keep climbing up, up, up, no matter what the comments say. It’s interesting how nudity, bareness, will always gain more traction, whether done with good or bad intentions. We’re fascinated by the intimacy, the bravery, the thought of, “I could never do that,” in the backs of our minds. Even though, frankly, it’s the most mundane thing ever; we see our own bodies every day. 

I mention this because the internet continues to love the same things, just in a slightly different lens. That nakedness now takes the form of long captions or titles on videos, recalling the most intimate of details about super recent break ups, divorces, foreclosures, grievances, the wild variety of emotions that comes with being human, most often within the negative spectrum. We’re praised for putting our private thoughts, moments, and emotions out for the public to see. And so, we’re encouraged to do it again and again. 

There’s two things that the internet loves more than anything in our decade: tragedies and men. Yeah, I hate it, but I have to (grudgingly) admit that the Elon Musk, Andrew Tate, Mr. Beast, insert-powerful-white-man-here video content is everywhere, even if I’ve filtered my feed enough to not see it anymore. But even if my feed is filtered, I still see their comments on these videos on vulnerable women sharing a struggle: “Don’t care, sorry.” “Pathetic.” “What a wimp.” “That’s your choice.” “I can see why they left you.” (Real comments, by the way. And those are the lighter ones.)

This is such a common occurence that it led to a recent trend on Instagram reels where influencers compare comments they’ve gotten from men vs women, the degrading vs the uplifting. Even men have taken part in this trend to find that the result remains the same. There’s even been an uptick in some public figures admitting they’ve planted hate on their own videos (I’ve been scouring for a link to a specific video example for hours but can’t find it) because haters are way more likely to interact than lovers, and it boosts their place in the algorithm. A genius PR move, for sure, and I give them props for that. But the thought also forms a pit in my stomach. Is clout more important than our sanity? Are we willing to subject ourselves to the same cycle—overshare, hate hate hate, rinse, repeat—for the sake of a higher position in social media’s good graces?

Look, I get it. I can’t say that I don’t, because I really, seriously do. As someone whose partial income depends on the engagement they get, I’m really tempted sometimes to put more of myself out there and make myself a target for hatred. Like, what if I just overshare a teeny bit? Won’t hurt too much. I’ll get the likes, and then be done with it. But it’s never actually done. I know I’ll have the same thought as before: “Well, it didn’t hurt last time, might as well.” And so, the cycle continues. 

I’ve been caught in this cycle since I was fourteen years old. I keep it fairly private that I had a semi-successful YouTube channel, Wattpad, and Tumblr in my pre-teen and early teen years. I’d amassed around 30k on all platforms, which may not seem like a lot in today’s view, but for me was more than I could comprehend. I couldn’t imagine people looking forward to my silly weekly videos and daily writings. But they did. What a crazy concept. 

I deleted it all because I got scared someone in my personal life would find it. I still regret it and wonder where I’d be if I hadn’t. But I also have to ask myself if it would have been worth it. On all those profiles, all those eyes on me, I was sharing my most intimate thoughts with secrets I didn’t even tell my closest friends. It was between me and the internet. And a couple thousand people, but that’s a minor detail, right?

Bearing your heart on a platform, reaching through your screen with it, and letting the mess of it drip all over your computer, especially at such a young age, is as gruesome as its imagery. And somehow, we’ve become desensitized to it. You stare at this gory image, let it make a mess, and continue typing away like it didn’t even matter, without realizing that you’re looking at someone’s life in your hands. And I’m absolutely drained by it.

I talked about all this to my best friend recently, as we all do when contemplating near-life-altering things. I told her how drained I am by oversharing on the internet, by having it be my job, and she held back a laugh and said, “Okay, well, not to say I told you so, but we literally had a conversation about this, like, a few months ago.”

I didn’t remember the conversation, but she reminded me. According to her, she’d brought up a concern about my oversharing on my platform, and I reassured her by telling her that I liked to do it. Looking back, I know I wasn’t lying. I did like it, a lot. I liked making my captions my diary, liked telling you everything happening in my week, and liked all the likes that came with it.

But you know when you start dating someone new and you have to update them on all your lore? Who all your ex-best friends are, what’s your favorite food, favorite color, your fashion sense, your ideal date? It can be fun to do the first few times, the first few romantic partners. But eventually, it becomes such an exhausting process that it could discourage you from dating altogether.

That’s what became of my relationship with social media. The algorithm was ever-changing, so it was like a new relationship all the time. I spilled my secrets while simultaneously keeping it at arm’s length; a tricky balance to maintain, but I did it. I’d tell it I’m sad without being too specific with what I’m sad about. I’d hint at some tragic history, just enough to be relatable, but not enough that I felt too exposed. You know I’ve had exes, but you don’t know why they ended. You know I moved away from all I’ve known, but you don’t know why. You know enough, and I don’t want you to know more. But because I’ve shared something with you, you don’t think to ask for more. The mystery dies, my platform intact. 

I’m not here to dictate how or what you decide to post. I’m also not here to give some grand goodbye to social media—I’m far too dependent. But I’ve noticed a desensitization in myself, like a cavity, that I don’t want to post my life for entertainment anymore. I’m clawing that feeling out with both hands, and instead of reaching through your screen with it, I want to lock it away, where I know it’s safe behind closed doors.

I think I’m taking back my secrets. Not that there’s anything to hide, but there is a sanity that needs to be restored. I archived my feed, I redid my strategy, to shapeshift it into something that feels more like me. I’m still figuring out how I’m doing this, but I’m doing it regardless. 

I’ve always loved art. I almost went into it as a career. So, why not have my feed reflect the things I love instead of the things that are damaging me the most? Wouldn’t it bring me more joy to look at, more joy to post?

I’ll give you my photo dumps like it’s a Picasso, and maybe it’s something you’ll even frame and look at for a while. But at the end of the day, you’re no closer to knowing me through them.

It’s time we start approaching social media as less of a reflection of ourselves and more as a gallery. I will glance at you, enjoy, and ultimately pass you by. There is beauty in vulnerability, yes, of course, and don’t think otherwise. But we have failed to appreciate it for far too long, and I think we need a break from it. And there’s so much beauty, one that’s been forgotten, in unfamiliarity, in anti-vulnerability, that we have lost in the trenches of our feeds. 

Whenever I went through a breakup in my teen years and I wanted to reach out, my Mom would always say, “Let them miss you.” I think we need to miss vulnerability for a bit, to become sensitive to it again.

I want to do this again for myself. Demonetize my heartache, journal it out, maybe post it only when I’m ready instead of in the heat of the moment like I used to. Save the oversharing for my writing, because that’s why I started social media in the first place: so I could have a platform to share my work with. 

We lost the plot a bit, didn’t we? I promise—it’s coming back now. 

Ugh. Thank you for reading everything my little fingers could manage to write. I have a lot of thoughts on this subject and I can only hope I’ve strung them together in a way that makes sense to you.

I’ve already given a disclaimer to you, but here’s another just in case: Share what you want! Post what you want! This newsletter is on trends and my own feelings that I’ve noticed that have personally bothered me and made me want to change the way I handle my platforms. But if you feel happy oversharing, please do! I’ll read your long captions any day! Just make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons AKA not for that little like count that’s ultimately meaningless, otherwise you’ll get burnt out like I did.

Anyway, I’m really happy to be writing this newsletter again. And writing more again in general! There’s so much joy in doing what I love! Thank you for allowing me to do that.

Some housekeeping: I have some exciting updates coming up on my Instagram soon, starting this first week of November. Stay tuned for that, and if you want to get ahead of the announcement, subscribe to my paid newsletter with the button below. That’s all I’ll say for now! No spoilers!

I’m hosting my third poetry night in Glendale, CA with Junior High LA on November 4, just about a week away! Click here to buy tickets and RSVP.

At some point in the month, I throw out all my essay ideas on my Instagram story and let my followers vote on what they want to read about next. I’ve done that with this essay and my last one, and I love it. I’m gonna keep doing it! So keep an eye out if you want a say in what I write about next.

My poetry book is still available here. Give it a buy and a read! Maybe a little review! I love to hear your thoughts.

Lastly, thank you for encouraging me and giving me the platform to do what I love. Here’s a tip link I literally just made if you’d like to tip me for my work and support me.

I’m grateful forever and ever.

Love ya,

Pluto.