You Have a Moral Responsibility to Post Your Boring Life on Instagram
On Friday, in the middle of my fifth consecutive workday spent utterly alone, I snapped. A crowded subway train seemed like a far-off fantasy, an office full of slumped shoulders like a scene I would never witness again. The world was 410 square feet, and I would have paid money to look up close at a face other than my own.
Instead of sobbing into my elbow, I picked up my phone and watched an Instagram Story of a college acquaintance’s girlfriend, sitting on his bed, taking a videoconference call with her co-workers. She looked happy, even though her boyfriend’s bedroom looked like every boyfriend’s bedroom—IKEA comforter, IKEA desk, IKEA lamp. It was totally boring, and I loved it.
That was just the first one. I watched little clips of friends and strangers lying on couches and spraying down
