Yours Truly, Instagram


Words || Georgia Pederson

Hi Bethany,
How have you been? I haven’t seen you around lately. I know you’re busy, but could we spend some time together this weekend?

Look, I get it. You’re avoiding me because I’m not as rich as I used to be. I’m doing the best that I can to provide for you. Every three minutes I’m promoting a new product. It’s exhausting. You could try to be a little more understanding. I never thought I’d be selling protein supplements, gym tights and detox teas either, but here we are.

I knew this would happen eventually. You’re a serial upgrader. You couldn’t make it work with the others but I thought I was different. I guess I was wrong. I’ll never be good enough for you. But who will? I saw what you did to your first love. He was there for you through your darkest pre-teen days. He stayed up with you all night and cried with you because no-one understood you. He supported you through your wannabe grunge phase. Then your wannabe indie phase. He let you act sad even though you were secretly happy…

I know we’re in an open relationship but he told me you still see him sometimes. I wish you would have let me know.

What about that older guy? The one you were with for like, 7 years? He told me that you shared everything with him. You were always giving him updates about your life, like who your best friends were, or how you honestly felt about your classmates, or how you were just so appreciative of everyone who’d wished you a happy birthday. He’d never admit this, but you should know that he was the one who reminded your friends about that every year. You sent him the photos from your Europe trip. All 418 of them. No-one else would look at them, but at least he sort of appreciated them. And what did you do to him? You set him up with your mum’s friends. Now he spends every day watching Ellen videos and sharing ‘memes’ about a mother’s love for her children despite vaginal tearing. Because of your breakup he’s been forced to sell all of his belongings to big British companies just to pay off his mortgage. Don’t you feel the least bit bad about that?

Then the poor guy found out that you were two-timing him with that absolute fuckboy who said you were gorgeous when you wore puppy ears. Never picked him for a furry, but I can kind of see it. You used to spend every day with him, and then you found out he was flirting with your friends, too. Now he only hangs out with high school kids. He’s a bit of a creep, that one.

Well guess what Beth, I appreciate your Europe photos. More than any of those guys ever did. Especially when you show them to me gradually over 12 months, so it seems like you’re always on holiday, even though I know you’re crying into a tub of lactose-free ice-cream because of all the debt accumulated from your trip. I even let you wallow in sadness while I show you memes at midnight until 3am and I don’t tell anyone about it, because I respect you.

Look, I know I’ve let myself go. I’m not the man I used to be. I’ve seen enough of my own ‘comedy’ to know there’s no going back. But we’ve been together for so many years, I just never thought this day would come. You made me feel special, like I was the only one you’d ever truly loved. I can see through that now. You’re always asking me what everyone else likes. You never ask me what I like, Beth.

I can tell you’re just waiting for the next guy to walk by so you can jump ship. Well, I’m going to beat you to it. I watch what you do. I know you check up on people. I’m going to make sure you like a five month old photo of that f***boy’s new girlfriend. And when you try to unlike it, I’ll make sure you like it again so she gets two notifications. You know what else? I’m going to make sure the only posts you see are from all the people you want to unfollow but can’t for fear that you’ll see them in public one day soon and it will be awkward. And to top it all off, after I break your heart into a million little pieces, I’m still going to watch your stories, just to remind you that I exist and this happened. I hope you’re happy.

Love, Insta