Nowadays, it’s hard to find an image—whether online or in print—whose intended purpose isn't to promote an item or an idea. With the number of social media users exponentially increasing each year, companies and individuals wishing to capitalise on this growth have found new ways to garner frequent and continued patronage. By tracking user interactions and interests, new media algorithms generate a unique experience for each user. These algorithms are becoming increasingly efficient and accurate with each passing year. While they promote media that is related to our interests, they also promote media that influences our spending choices and whatever is currently gaining the most traction. Being overexposed to so many choices and opinions, whether they be good or bad, can lead to fatigue, skewed self-perception, and much more. 

For many, the digital world is an escape from the uncomfortable reality. Communities are formed, friendships forged, and interests piqued. However, I can’t help but be curious about whether something sinister lurks behind the beautiful faces and places we so easily double-tap online. You’d like to think that exposure to so much physical beauty and material success would not affect your self-perceptions, but that is far from the reality.

Yes, there is no denying the many positive aspects of increased digital convenience and interconnectivity, as evidenced by the COVID-19 pandemic. But what is worrisome is the equally growing feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and hatred being proliferated online, especially among its younger users. It begs the question: are we paying for the convenience of social media with our well-being? And additionally: is it worth it?

There is a popular TikTok audio that goes, “You have to start romanticising your life. You have to start seeing yourself as the main character. ‘Cause if you don’t, life will continue to pass you by, and all the little things that make it so beautiful will continue to go unnoticed.” We can assume that the audio’s creator was well-intentioned, and the audio is a cheerful reminder that it's okay to slow down and smell the roses. However, the TikTok audio is reminiscent of Shakespeare’s “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women are merely players.” Perhaps what this TikTok audio is also suggesting, as Shakespeare does, is that all of human existence is a grand performance that we put on for one another. We are both the audience and the performers. But I’m growing tired of performing. Why do I need to be the main character? What’s wrong with being the supporting role? Why can’t we just exist without the constant awareness that we’re being perceived? Yes, we are the main characters in the stories of our unique lives. But the idea that everything we do is for the consumption of others can quickly become discouraging. 

I doubt Shakespeare could have fathomed that the world he was referencing in Elizabethan England would grow into the globalised world we know today. A world where we have access to centuries of information at our fingertips. A world where it’s possible to explore the streets of Stockholm and Buenos Aires at the press of a button. A world where you can develop parasocial relationships with a person a continent away and never have them know you exist. Because of the internet, we can witness a person's highest highs and lowest lows. Seldom are we witness to the mundane in-betweens. We can fill in the blanks of a person's life and create a narrative that appeals the most to us, regardless of whether it’s fact or fiction. We don’t know them, and they don’t know us, yet we’re compelled to pit ourselves against them. It’s not uncommon to have a feeling of dread that everyone is spectacular now—except yourself. 

It’s easy to remind ourselves that the internet is fake and that social media is a heavily curated and edited world, whose main motivator is making money, but let’s be honest—how many of us heed our own warnings? I am guilty of scrolling through profiles that I know will just make me look in the mirror and compare my physical appearance with theirs. Sure, unfollowing, blocking, and deleting are all options available to users but surely I’m not the only person that finds that there’s a bit of masochistic joy in doom scrolling. There’s also a sadistic pleasure in secretly hoping that our successful counterparts fail at something. It can be small envies, such as wishing they stumble on the job, or more devious, such as harassing the significant others of whoever is the object of our fancy. Feelings of inadequacy carry over to the real world. I know a lot of us have that ever-present feeling that we should be doing more or better than someone we know. Whether it be checking an old classmate's LinkedIn account or opening Instagram to see a cute picture of a lovey-dovey couple, it’s not hard to feel like you’re falling behind. 

As the popular saying goes, “We hate to love, and we love to hate.” As a collective, we are fascinated and entertained by prodigies and those who possess some exceptional skill or talent, but are quick to turn towards jealousy and judgement the moment the seed of self-doubt is planted. It’s easy to hold oneself and others to high standards, some of them impossible to achieve, but it is just as easy to hate another person over the most superficial ‘icks’. Just take a look at how people online make fun of Chloë Moretz or Joey King because ‘they just look annoying’ or how they tear down Olivia Munn and Olivia Wilde for who they are dating. Is it because we fear that beauty, success, and pleasure are finite? 

We’ve been conditioned to ‘show a pic, or it didn’t happen’. How many of us are guilty of getting all dressed up to go to a nice place or event in hopes of taking a photo that could be potentially posted online? How many of us have felt disappointed by our physical appearance when the picture or video we hoped to post online does not turn out the way we hoped it would? It’s not just adults and teenagers. Increasing numbers of young children are concerned about how they look photographed—some have already discovered their ‘good side’ and how to edit their physical appearance. Not even newborns are exempt from this—these days, many have their pictures uploaded online from the moment they are born. Many children are growing up in front of the lens of a camera and being adored or criticised by legions of strangers. Yet we’re surprised when many of our favourite child stars rebel, rampage, or quit show business altogether. It must be tiresome having to always be on guard and wary of a rogue camera. 

I know I’ve mentioned that I’m tired of performing.  I’m sure I’m not the only one, yet I know I will continue with the charade. It’s human nature. But perhaps it might serve as some consolation knowing that we’re all faking it.