I was warned about the dangers of Instagram since I was younger, but no one warned me about the dangers of using it until I was on the streets.
It started as a hobby, going to cute coffee shops, not working, finding cute local restaurants and local shops but it slowly spun out of control.
I would take a picture of everything I was doing because my friends loved to see all of the cool food I was eating while they were stuck at work every day. As the days dragged on, I realized that a $5 coffee a day may not have been worth the aesthetic of my Instagram—but I didn’t stop.
The likes were addicting.
I gained followers and confidence with every cortado I didn’t drink because I don’t like the taste of espresso and shitty ass vegan food I threw away because it tasted like rocks but looked so healthy.
And I couldn’t stop.
I kept on posting, every night I posted a picture of my food and every morning it was my coffee, each costing more and more money. Looking back on it now, I can see how getting a job may have eased this, but I didn’t have the time, I had to keep finding cool places.
I tried to self-label as a blogger, but that also didn’t work.
Now I am homeless but every once in a while, I get enough money to buy a $5 coffee.