There was a meme I saw a few days back that read something to the effect of "I use Instagram to talk to myself every day if you read it that's on you." I felt that. But I also love being watched and watching people watch me online. It feels weird admitting that but good at the same time, honest.

There's a sharpness to honesty but never harm. Who wouldn't want to be told the truth? Of course, there's the phrase "ignorance is bliss," but I think I'd like to know as much as I can to make better-informed choices. Being truthful with myself, though, I'd probably be overwhelmed by it all.

Someone told me I was a people pleaser a few nights ago, and it stung like a mother fucker because I knew it was true. To be told something so honest by someone you know on only a surface level and for a short time is hard. They weren't wrong, though; my actions have an apparent unsubtly to them.

Walking down the street and to the bus stop, I hold my phone in my hand. I didn't want to have this conversation. I could've acted like everything was fine, but that would only be further proof of my inability to please myself before others. It was time.

After two calls, eight minutes total, I felt nauseous at the end of it all. I'm sitting on the bus to work, watching the sun stretch across the sky, light bleeding onto the seats. It's warm to gaze at but does not satisfy my looping mind. My AirPods are in my ear from the call still, but no music is playing. I open Instagram and scroll mindlessly until I nearly miss my stop. I don't miss it though.

I get off, still looking at my phone, and walk up the stairs, down the hall, through the security door, and into my office. It's just this one page I'm refreshing every so often. I'm wondering if she's said anything, what she's thinking. I don't want to sit with my thoughts. It's sort of pathetic, thinking back about how desperate I want to know. I still want to know.

And then, something was cut in my brain. A wire was snipped. I thought back to that meme about talking to yourself on this platform for so many to see. I thought about how I did that and understood why I did it, but not want to feel performative anymore because it's been fucking with my head.

I have disabled the account until I feel like being a part of that online space again. I talk to myself every time I write, and hardly anyone reads this, so it makes me feel far less inclined to perform. No one likes reading long shit anyway. Not that this is long, I'm only at 480 words.

It's longer than an Instagram caption, and that makes me feel better.

My birthday was two days ago, and I spent a lot of time celebrating it. I was recently shown how deeply I'm cared for by people that I didn't know thought of me as anything more than someone full of herself and funny at parties where drinking is involved. God, I fucking hate drinking. It doesn't bring out the person I think I am, but it makes me far more fearless about rejection, which has helped me connect with different people. Now that I've started the seeds on specific relationships, I can begin to watch them bloom in real life instead of interacting online. Like, texting and calls and weekend hangouts where we play Mario Kart, get way too stoned and end the night passing out in the living room.

I watch my sister come into our kitchen as I sit at the table.

"New writing place, huh? That's nice, changing it up," she says, gesturing to my laptop.

"Yeah, I'm really trying to get something written down; it's just hard to get my thoughts onto paper."

She sits down across from me and shows me a joint she's rolled herself. It's small but cute, just like she is.

"For you," she says with the broadest grin on her face, a second one she's rolled for herself is wedged between her index and middle fingers.

"Thanks," I smile back at her, and we light them together, sitting in silence for a few minutes.

She breaks the silence, asking me about the package I got, and who it was from. We talk for nearly an hour about nothing and everything. We do this so much now, and I don't know how to summarize these interactions yet. I don't want to share them because I want the memories to remain in my head, not on this website. Not everything is meant to be shared, but I think people deserve to know what a strong sibling bond looks like.

Perhaps not from me, not yet.