6.18.25: Instagram Wormhole

You open Instagram “just for a second.” Thirty minutes vanish. Your thumb scrolls automatically—tanned faces, rented cars, fake hustle, Bali again. Everyone’s life looks cinematic. Yours feels paused. You know it’s curated. You still fall for it. You start comparing. Their abs. Their trips. Their milestones. Your brain goes quiet, but not the good kind. You close the app and feel worse. The dopamine hits aren’t hitting. The algorithm isn’t feeding. It’s feeding on you. So you delete it—for the third time this year. You last a week. Then you’re back. We all are. Nobody wins. Especially not the scroll.