“You’re not even following me on Instagram.”
Stop. Right there, that was the first mistake. If time could be rewound, it should be rewound to that moment when my brain decided to form that sentence and let it slip out of my overworked mouth. A few seconds later, an Instagram notification came up on the extremely cracked screen of my iPod. He had started following me. And thus began a whole new world for me to get rejected in, to have my hopes shattered in and to have my feelings hurt in. Don’t get me wrong; Instagram is the best thing I’ve had happen to me in a long time. I had become a slave to Facebook and this new way of social networking freed me from that. I love that I can upload a single photo at a time, and edit it with one of the filters. More than that, I love that I can snapshot little moments of my life and share them with such a select group of people. But as with every love affair, there are negatives, which will eventually be shown throughout this nightmarey tale. Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, time should be rewound to that moment where he started following me on Instagram (for those Instagramly challenged and more familiar with Facebook speak, that is like adding someone as a friend ). Well, actually, to be completely honest, time should be rewound to about a week before that when staying up to 3am watching one of your favourite movies with your best friend and your latest crush (although unbeknown to you at the time) seemed like a really great idea. Ba Bow. Wrong. Completely wrong. It seemed innocent enough at the time because you didn’t like him in that way and you would never think of him in that way. He was just some random you knew but never had much to do with, and your life was completely fine when it was like that. But it had to change. And it had to get to the point where you would do anything to go back to the time when it was like that. But that’s the harsh thing about the progression of time. You can’t go back. Ever. Cue ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’. How sad that a boy can actually drive you to a point where you wish that movie were real and that you could actually erase the memory of him. But this is getting way too deep way too quickly and I probably lost you a few sentences ago. So let’s rewind (not actually because we’ve established that although ideal in some circumstances it is actually physically impossible). Here begins our happily never after…
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