By Staff Writers Who Haven’t Felt Joy Since the Algorithm Changed
This feature was written entirely while doom-scrolling in bed, accidentally liking a photo from 2017, and immediately considering moving to a new country under a different name.
Instagram is not a social media app. It is a luxury hallucination simulator where regular people cosplay as celebrities, entrepreneurs, fitness experts, travel bloggers, relationship gurus, and emotionally stable adults.
It is the only place where:
Instagram has done what religion, therapy, and self-help books failed to do: convince millions of people that happiness is one sponsored post away.
The Instagram feed is a vertical parade of human achievement designed to make you question every decision you’ve ever made—starting with breakfast.
You scroll past:
Meanwhile, you’re wearing the same hoodie for the fourth day straight, staring into space like a Victorian orphan.
Instagram doesn’t ask, “How are you?”
It asks, “Why aren’t you better than this?”
Instagram filters have committed crimes that will be studied in future courtrooms.
They erase:
There are people who look so different online that facial recognition software refuses to acknowledge them.
These filters don’t just alter appearances—they rewrite biology. Suddenly everyone has:
The mirror has become an unreliable narrator.
Instagram bios are tiny novels of self-mythology.
Common sightings include:
Spiritual bios remain undefeated:
“Chosen.”
“Protected.”
“Walking in purpose.”
Their last post was a thirst trap next to a microwave.
Influencers are people who monetized breathing.
They wake up on camera.
They stretch—sponsored.
They drink water—link in bio.
They cry—affiliate code included.
Every influencer claims:
Their apartment looks like an IKEA catalog married an Amazon fulfillment center.
Influencers do not sell products.
They sell the idea that your life could improve if you clicked harder.
Instagram comment sections are where logic goes to die.
A video about puppies will somehow attract:
There is always:
No one logs into Instagram calm.
Instagram Stories are emotional drive-by shootings.
They include:
Stories are temporary, which makes people reckless.
Instagram Stories are for feelings you want witnessed but not addressed.
The soft launch is Instagram’s greatest invention.
It lets people announce:
“I am not alone anymore.”
Without showing proof.
Common tactics:
The hard launch comes later—right before the breakup.
Then everything disappears, and a black screen appears:
“Protecting my peace.”
Fitness Instagram operates on:
Every transformation promises:
“You can look like this too.”
You cannot.
That man hasn’t eaten bread since 2015 and cries when he smells pizza.
Instagram couples are either:
They post long captions about “choosing each other” while arguing off-camera about who forgot to buy oat milk.
Real love is quiet.
Instagram love is sponsored.
No one understands the algorithm.
Experts say:
You’ll post your best work—ignored.
You’ll post a blurry photo by accident—viral.
Instagram success is not earned.
It is granted without explanation.
Everyone claims they hate Instagram.
They check it before brushing their teeth.
Instagram feeds:
It’s a casino where the prize is attention.
Instagram is fake.
Instagram is exhausting.
Instagram is ridiculous.
And tomorrow, you’ll open it again.
Because somewhere between the filters, the ads, the arguments, and the soft launches… there’s a very human desire to be seen—even if it’s through a heavily edited photo with a caption you rewrote twelve times.
Instagram isn’t real life.
But unfortunately, it’s modern life.
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