A few days ago my Instagram account got hacked and poof, it went away.
I would be lying if I said it wasn't my fault<I could have been more careful> or if I said it doesn't hurt so much.
At first I wasn't sure what to feel about it and it felt shallow and Vsco-waterbottle-scrunchy-girly-ish to be upset over an instagram account but I choose to acknowledge that this loss has hurt me and for this acknowledgement, I am making this post.
If you are reading this, welcome to my late instagram's service of songs or funeral or whatever else they do to celebrate life.
If there was anything the content I created on my now-extinct instagram page represented, I think it was honesty. If she were here right now, she (my insta page, now gone—okay this is also exhausting, can we just use a name for her? Let's call my now extinct IG account "Shanice") would want me to write about her with pure honesty and that is exactly what I'm about to do.
This is a tribute post to Shanice without any of the lies we tell at funerals.
I.
Shanice was not a great woman/account. She was quite mediocre and average in terms of numbers and even quality, but she was my brain child and I was super proud of her. She connected me to a community of amazing people that I never would have met if she hadn't been around. I adore(d) her.
II.
Shanice gave creativity a whole new meaning to me. Before Shanice, I would write stuff or think them up in my head and only just keep them to myself, but with Shanice, I was able to amplify my voice and share my craft with others<even got paid for it too sometimes>. Shanice was the reason why I did not lose my mind during the covid-19 lockdown.
Everybody else at the time had something going on and there was me, jobless and feeling utterly useless, until I created her(thanks to Victory Okoyomoh's workshop). She made me feel like I was something; a creator of some sort.
III.
Shanice made me realise the gift of people that I was blessed with. I would make a post about a poem or a story or anything really and there were all these people rooting for me with comments by starting up conversations from the things I posted, with likes, with reposts on their stories etc etc. I know the internet is just the internet but it made me feel warm and loved each time I saw these things. I had an online support system, courtesy of Shanice.
IV.
Shanice became a part of my family in her own way. Every morning after I'd dropped a "what she thought" post (if you used to follow me, you would remember this series) the night before, I'd be going through the comments with my family and we'd have such a good time discussing our opinions on what other people had to say. She was such a bonding tool.
V.
While I was such a huge preacher of self-validation, I never quite got around it myself<stinking with hypocrisy>.
There were a few people who I loved and respected that never acknowledged anything I had to say or create through Shanice. At the beginning, I created content with them at the back of my mind, hoping, "okay, maybe this time, I'll make something good enough for them to give a like for?", the hope soon turned to latent annoyance and remained like that ever since. Now that shanice is gone, I guess I'll never know if my craft was good enough for those people would I?<inserts pathetic laugh laced with self pity and a dash of saline disgust>
VI.
In Shanice early days, I tried to be very consistent, but in her latter days, I was virtually absent. The last time I made a post on Shanice was about 6 months ago.
VII.
I don't have any excuse for ghosting Shanice or the amazing community she made accessible to me, not even school is a good enough excuse. I was simply lazy.
VIII.
I am tempted to promise to change, to write more and stop being lazy to honour Shanice's memory, because if I had made posts more consistently than I did, even if Shanice had to die, she'd have died a more honourable death, but I can't make such promises.
IX.
On somedays, I wanted out. The internet is quite an overwhelming space for me. On somedays, I had anxiety over Shanice.
X.
I don't know what happens next. I am still shamelessly grieving my darling Shanice.
She showed me how important it was to put myself out there and connect with like-minded people to learn more and be more. I don't plan to go back to hiding the beautiful things I have to write or looking down on my craft and the things I enjoy doing or craving validation for my work in irrelevant places, for Shanice.
Author's note:
Thank you for reading through this!
I have had such an ugh-can't-I-get-a-break week and writing this helped ease off a lot of steam<not just figuratively, hehe>.
Grief is dampening and I feel exhausted already. I want to be really happy.
Someone said happiness is like water and our fingers are too thin, the water keeps seeping through them and maybe it is true.
Maybe happiness is like water and my fingers are too thin but I choose to hold bowls in them. I will chase this water and fetch and fetch, until the bowls overflow, and the water kisses my ankle and my knee and my waist and until I'm drowning in it, until it's the only thing I know.
If you are reading this, you are one of the good things I'm grateful for and I hope you found light in this post. I also hope that you intentionally choose to shamelessly chase after happiness too.
P.S A kind word of encouragement in the comments would go a long way. Thank you.
6 Comments