I don’t know who I am, When my face sits on Instagram - in that pretty little box is where I now lay locked. I took part in the creation, of the trap of my generation… a beautiful lie at best, it has succeeded to make a mess of how we communicate and think by creating a false link between the inside and the out, everyone likes to shout! in this breeding ground for ignorance where nothing makes much sense. somehow making us feel both good and bad, subconsciously it’s honestly driving us mad! And sad. Because our posting and scrolling obsession has sent us into a depression… so alas we are addicted, to the feelings we have inflicted upon ourselves and now we need help! to figure out who we are despite our brand-new scars… I need to find out who I am, without a label from Intsagram. Because I’ll sure be damned if social media isn’t a scam.