Leave the dishes.
Let the celery rot in the bottom drawer of the refrigerator
and an earthen scum harden on the kitchen floor.
Leave the black crumbs in the bottom of the toaster.
Throw the cracked bowl out and don’t patch the cup.
Don’t patch anything. Don’t mend. Buy safety pins.
Don’t even sew on a button.
Sure, we all think that if we post the perfect post maybe all eyes will turn to us and after a full night’s sleep we will wake to thousands, no hundreds of thousands, of followers, but seriously, ever since Cinderella, who wouldn’t? Not exactly raised on Disney, but pretty close, I thought Instagram a dream platform for every selfie I might snap. Not that I wanted to be something that you couldn’t; I just thought that if I could, than anyone might. As in, if I imagined it, then you would too. That we might all be a bit more than we thought possible. A bit more flashy, more colorful, more ourselves. You know? Like what you dream about as you lay around in the tub on a Saturday night just might make a difference. That’s what I attempted on an afternoon. #instagrammodel Continue reading