Social Media Pressure and the Struggle to be Enough

The clock ticked, years passed, and seasons changed, yet there she stood, bewildered by how much her life had stalled.

She had swiped through every source of news and filled her mind with the life of the internet’s Tom, Dick, and Harry. She knew people’s professions, silently celebrated their successes, and praised their milestones.

Now she wanted more, longed for something great, yet still similar to the extravagant and perfect lifestyle the internet flaunted before her. 

Her scars, as she would often define by her reflection in the mirror, seemed too deep, her appearance insufficient, and her life incomplete. 

The angels could have composed an unending hymn celebrating her journey of strength and resilience, yet she pushed her desire towards an unimaginable expectation, convinced it was the goal. 

On the contrary, she was the type you’d proudly showcase on your socials, letting everyone know you knew her, even if it was only a fleeting moment captured in a photo.

To write her story would guarantee you the bestselling author on the most phenomenal and outstanding plot of a life. Her character could have been the lead in a movie that would be hailed as a masterpiece. 

Anyone looking from the outside would deem her perfect and complete. Yet beneath the surface, she only saw lack. 

To what extent does she have to beat herself to reach her goal? And yet, how can she not see the power she holds?

This power does not come from possession of material things, No. 

It lies in her simplicity, her selflessness and her ability to bring care and gentleness into the life of others. Her presence, her spirit, fills every room she enters, leaving traces of nostalgia in every life she crosses with.

She brings a smile even to the most serious of faces.

Where did this expectation come from? This need to be some unimaginable heroine in everyone’s story. 

The paradox lies in her caring and being gentle with others, yet depriving herself of the same.

Her anxiety grows from the belief that she can never say no to putting others first, even though she desperately longs to. She yearns to break free from the web she has woven around herself.

Which life is this, living like a ticking time bomb?

She says time is flying only because she has never taken any for herself. 

Who told her she wasn’t enough? 

Was it the photoshopped images on the internet? The gram photos posted only for likes that had nothing to do with the people’s reality? 

I try to understand why she would do this to herself. 

I wish she knew that she is enough, that the scars she sees are invisible to others.

The photos she scrolls through show only bright moments; the dark ones stay hidden.

The world isn’t watching, and she has nothing to prove, only to be happy with herself.

I hope she treats herself with kindness and care.