had a finsta with rants about school and parents and crush drama. counselor said colleges "might" look. deleted two years of posts in ten minutes. felt like arson. identity online is a room you burn when adults get nervous. still not sure who i am without the draft folder. scrolled past three posts that made me feel behind and one that made me laugh. kept the laugh screenshot like evidence of a good day. school tomorrow starts before my thoughts do. the mirror in the bathroom had a sticky note i wrote last month that still applies unfortunately. homework tab and college portal tab and group chat tab competed for the same three brain cells. mom knocked once and i said coming and did not move for five minutes because adolescence is performance delay. the essay draft word count mocked me from the corner of the screen. identity is exhausting when it has a deadline.
Deleted My Finsta Before the Counselor Saw
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Deleted My Finsta Before the Counselor Saw
I had a finsta with rants about school, parents, and crush drama. My counselor said colleges might look. I deleted two years of posts in ten minutes.
It felt like arson.
Identity online is a room you burn when adults get nervous. I am seventeen. I am still not sure who I am without the draft folder.
Social media promised authenticity. College prep promised curation. The collision is exhausting.
I kept screenshots on my camera roll like evidence of a former self. Maybe that is the real essay topic. I am not brave enough to write it yet.
I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.
The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.
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