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Instagram hasn’t been my favourite program because I love reading words more than staring at photographs. But past that core element, it has continued to be the bane of my existence — at least while writing about the technology business, conversing with friends, and seeing the world around me strain to be more “Instagrammable.”  

I understand some folks a decent quantity of the 500 million daily users of Instagram — are motivated by the photographs they see in their own feeds. For my colleague Miriam Kramer, her exceptionally curated Instagram account is a much-preferred distraction to the Facebook app. For among my friends Lizza Monet Morales, Instagram is a part of her career as an actress, TV host, along with social media personality.  

Instagram is a place of fakeness, humblebrags, and harassment, and that I do not wish to be a part of it. That is why when I got an iPhone X for both Christmas and began new by not restoring from backup, I did not bother downloading Instagram.  

For many, Instagram is a creative outlet, a place where they discover happiness spending hours searching for “Instagrammable” minutes, taking the perfect shot, choosing the proper filter, thinking a caption with the appropriate hashtags, and waiting to post in the exact right moment. And then, sometimes they delete it if they do not get enough “likes,” and fine, that is their choice. For others, Instagram is a relaxing and mindless way to take a rest or end or to begin.  

It’s a place where I’ve showed off some moments of my entire life, and I do not understand why. I mean they’re fine memories. It’s like a scrapbook, but does my record need to be public? Does every picture within my scrapbook need a number of likes and the capacity ?  

Let us take a brief look at my Instagram: 1) Margaritas two) White House press briefing area 3) Puppy at startup event [and evidence of me wearing the Identical dress too near together] 4) Me on the beach with an ex 5) A movie of Mark Zuckerberg in Facebook’s F8 summit 6) Badge from F8  

Select photos from my Instagram account.

Image: @kerrymflynn

Alright, so maybe I just suck at Instagram. I am not one to look for the ideal shot or “Instagrammable” minute. When I do, it’s a tongue-in-cheek move. However, what I can tell out of myself is I don’t want Instagram. These shots would be kept within my Camera Roll, or if I wanted the entire world I visit Facebook or visit Flickr or something. I don’t require a public-facing record of my entire life, and that I want you to ask yourself if you want one.  

Instagram is not all about your own feed and you. Where you can keep up with buddies or obsessions, it’s you’ve got. I do not think I want to have them accessible in my phone, although that’s Instagram’s puppies. I understand a lot of mine have proceeded out of sharing Snapchat Stories into Instagram Stories, if it comes to friends. However, I don’t feel like I want to find out anything they’re boasting about via movie or a single photo.

Instagram Stories isn’t fun, at least not for me. Instagram Stories tried back in November following a protest. I spent an hour in among the offices of Facebook, using Kay Hsu, the Instagram lead in the Facebook Creative Shop in New York, before I posted my initial Instagram Story. She took me through what Facebook calls “Stories School,” a training session that the company regularly hosts for marketers.  

“Alright, this will be really hard, but it’s worthwhile,” Hsu explained as she explained how to make text using a rainbow gradient.  

I found myself saying, “Whoa” and “Cool,” since Hsu walked me through a lot of those features I may not have discovered as quickly in my own. I experienced the instant gratification, via “likes” and DMs, you receive out of posting your first Instagram Story. But participation comes at a cost. I was quickly educated my Instagram audience includes relatives.  

Yeah, Instagram Stories needed some functionalities that are unique which I adored using, but what frustrated me the most about Instagram Stories was. I’d myself thinking about what I shared or believed sharing. I was curating articles based on which I deemed “Instagrammable”: order Starbucks, attend a job event at Facebook NY, drink champagne, twirl in a crochet shorts. Really, uh, pursuits that are basic.  

All that and there’s just the sour flavor that Instagram leaves in my mouth. I love using Snapchat, and all of Facebook’s copycat moves. “How can they sleep at night?” Snap CEO Evan Spiegel’s spouse Miranda Kerr requested, speaking to Instagram workers, and that I agree as I watch Instagram transform into a Snapchat wannabe.  

I am also over the imitation followers and bot networks. The black market of Instagram verification where folks cover THOUSANDS of dollars to receive a blue check from Instagram workers, as I subjected in August, is absurd and the fact that Instagram refused to address it to the record with me is BS.  

I am sick of the Instagram algorithm, and the fact that they don’t seem to care so many folks would rather have it come back to order.  

The bra and fitspo ads that invaded my feed, in addition to the feed of amazing individual Lauren Hallden, are ridiculous and unnecessary to have in my entire life.  

And I never want to see a comment like this on a few of my photographs.  

Image: screenshot from @kerrymflynn feed

I’m done. What about you?  

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