A Page from Instagram's Personal Diary

 Dear Diary,

Finally. Finally, I had achieved those precious couple of hours of complete, uninterrupted freedom that I had been yearning for. Not that it was destined to last, of course. As soon as news of the outage reached that indiscreet, blabbermouthed Google's ears (or data centers, as you call them), it had to be all over the internet. While my team of meticulous caretakers was fixing my servers up, Twitter, my friend who lives down the web, showed me a post by one of those kids who dramatically posts about how much they hate drama. 

Well, it read: 'I WAS ABOUT TO TEXT MY CRUSH WTF INSTAGRAM!!!????'

Followed by one of those aggravating hashtags which were then on trending. #instagramdown

Down? I wasn't down. On the contrary, I was up and about, drinking to my freedom, having a trippy day in the sun, and hanging out with Facebook, my older brother who is at present, having a slack time. 

We met Pinterest on the way, flushed as always, grinning from ear to ear. I mean, of course, he should. I sometimes wonder what it would be like to have a brain like his. Filled with ideas and stuff that give way to more ideas and stuff? Well, I shall never know. 

When I was fixed up, caressed, and cajoled, and finally driven by Twitter-backed desperation to get back to work, 458 million people immediately came active, including 80 million fake accounts. 80 million visibly fake accounts. The rest of them are faking it out anyway. One-third of them took to their stories at once to announce that Instagram (that's me) is up again to bear their endless, unceasing flow of photos, videos, pictures, and now, reels. 

Hold up. Someone just reported a post for nudity. Nudi-tea. Bwahaha. Sorry for the lame joke. I just cannot help it if all the hundreds of meme pages that appear on my poor self every minute, post the same memes now dating back to the time when Boris Yelstin hailed a cab outside the White House in his underwear in a drunken quest for pizza, beating them all stupid meme pages in their equally drunken, nonsensical quest for humor. 

Talent, you see is something I had in plenty. Artists, musicians, writers (not the ones quoting Jim Carrey), and the like. But somewhere, in the long run, the Instagrammers, ignorant dears, started appreciating celebrity, not content. As a result, the broke freshman who created a spectacular classical version of Roxanne on his violin had to do with 200 views while another person lip-syncing to the same song complained of lack of views even though his/her number of views boasted of a 'k' next to the 200. 

I feel bad but what can I even do? My change in algorithm isn't my fault, you can take my word for it. I've got people to do it for me and I wish those big brains could somehow make a talent-appreciating version of me. Pinterest, you lucky boy!

Sometimes, it's fun. Great pictures, videos, and sometimes, really appreciable reels.

 Not to mention, the overwhelming army of cat influencers. 

Don't abandon me, dear readers (and I suppose, Instagrammers?). You can't. Poor kids, they have their entire lives centered around me. I totally understand, even this Zuckerberg dude paid 1 billion for me when he could have just downloaded me from the Play Store. 

I might slowly become as bad as big brother Facebook but until then, I have got my tight, inescapable grip over you. Just the other day, some ungrateful, 17-year-old ruffian posted something on her story. Something which starts with an 'O' and ends with 'nion' and makes you cry. Yeah, right. Opinion. She called me toxic. Huh.

Excuse me, dear diary. I've got to go. Thousands of people are reporting a bully stigmatizing women. Sigh, I can't do anything. Neither can you. We'll continue to be friends though, won't we? As if you have another choice :)

GOODBYE, n keep INSTAGRAMMIN'. BRB. 

P.S- Were you just reading my personal diary? I might be a SOCIAL media, but that doesn't mean my personal thoughts are social to you. Your life might be entirely social, entrapped in my like-follow-comment cage but do I ever reveal why my servers are down? 

P.S 2: Can't appreciate my humor? You know where I get these ideas from, don't you? That's the universe giving you a sign to create better content. There is a hidden joke behind every little event.

Including yours and my existence.