Social Media Isn’t Toxic. You Are.

Social media isn’t toxic. That’s the lie people tell themselves, so they don’t have to look too closely at what they’re actually doing on it.

Platforms don’t wake up in the morning and decide to be unhinged. They don’t pick fights, post passive-aggressive quotes, or spend three hours stalking someone they claim not to care about. People do that. You do that. And then you log off, shake your head, and blame the app like it forced your hand.

It didn’t.

Social media is a mirror with better lighting. It reflects exactly what you bring into it. If your feed is full of outrage, drama, and people behaving badly, it’s not because the algorithm has singled you out for punishment. It’s because you engage with it. You click it. You watch it. You feed it. And it feeds you right back.

Then comes the performance. Everyone suddenly becomes a moral authority, a mental health advocate, a political analyst, or a victim, depending on what gets the most traction that week. Outrage is currency. Oversharing is strategy. And authenticity? That’s just another aesthetic now.

People love to say social media is damaging their mental health, while actively marinating in the exact content that makes them feel worse. Doomscrolling like it’s a job. Comparing their real lives to someone else’s highlight reel, then acting shocked when they feel inadequate. You’re not a hostage here. You’re a willing participant.

And the hypocrisy is almost impressive. The same people complaining about negativity are the ones liking, sharing, and commenting on it. The same ones calling out toxicity are in the comments section sharpening knives. It’s not exposure that’s the problem. It’s appetite.

The truth is that social media didn’t create this behaviour. It just gave it a stage. A very efficient, very public stage where people can be exactly who they are without interruption. And for a lot of people, that’s the uncomfortable part.

Because it’s easier to blame the platform than admit you might be part of the problem.

Social media isn’t toxic. It’s just honest.

Being "Real" - The New Performance

“I’m just being authentic.”

With lighting.
Editing.
And three takes.

Sure. Keep it real. 

Put those Botox and filled cheeks and lips in the camera and smile!

I wish I could be there in 50 years when they open up coffins and see a skeleton, with boobs, lips, eyelashes and a butt! 

They don't know what any of this does to you! Like smoking - my mother started smoking when she was in hospital. Pregnant with me!! My Cigarette went through the wards handing them out! Yeah. It'll calm your nerves!! Now they discovered it was deadly. So, they invented vapes. Same thing! 

The weight loss drugs... Everybody is on it! Even my sister and brother! Personally, I'd rather be a fat fuck.

Stupid people. Be happy as you are! Because I don't think fake lips or a frozen face is going to be the magic pill of happiness!

True Crime Isn’t Curiosity. It’s Entertainment.

Let’s not dress it up.

True crime isn’t about justice. It’s not about “understanding.” It’s about watching something awful from a safe distance and calling it interest.

We binge it. We follow it. We wait for the next episode like it’s a series—because it is.

Someone’s worst day becomes content. A life gets reduced to a storyline. A murder becomes a hook.
And we eat it up.

Podcasts stretch details for suspense. Documentaries build cliffhangers. Comment sections fill with theories like it’s a game. Real people are dead, and we’re treating it like a puzzle.

“Obsessed with true crime” isn’t curiosity. It’s branding.

If this were really about respect, it wouldn’t sound like entertainment. It wouldn’t feel this polished. This addictive. This… enjoyable.

But it does.
Because that’s exactly what it is.

Anzac Day Isn’t Your Stage

There’s always one.

While thousands stand quietly at dawn, remembering people who actually sacrificed something, someone like Eli Toby decides this is his moment. Not to reflect. Not to respect. Just to make a lot of loud noise.

Booing a Welcome to Country at an Anzac Day service isn’t brave. It’s not a statement. It’s not even controversial. It’s just attention-seeking dressed up as conviction.

If you’ve got an issue, there are a hundred ways to express it like an adult. Standing in the dark interrupting a memorial isn’t one of them.

Anzac Day isn’t about you.

And the fact that you think it is, tells everyone exactly who you are.

Everyone Has Anxiety Now (Apparently)

At this point, breathing incorrectly is probably a diagnosis.

Some people have anxiety. Real anxiety. The kind that doesn’t clock off, doesn’t negotiate, and doesn’t care if you’ve got things to do. It’s exhausting, private, and very real.

And then there’s… whatever this is.

A mixture of not getting you own way; and sulking about it. 

Didn’t get what you wanted? Anxiety. Had to speak in public? Anxiety. Felt uncomfortable for five whole minutes? Better label it before it escalates into personal growth.

We’ve taken normal human friction — nerves, rejection, awkwardness — and medicalised it. Because apparently the worst thing that can happen to a person now is feeling slightly uneasy.

It’s not anxiety. It’s life!

But life doesn’t get much airtime anymore. It doesn’t come with sympathy, validation, or a neat little label you can post about. So, everything gets upgraded into something more serious than it is.

And the more we do that, the less anything means.

Because when everything is anxiety, the people who actually have it get drowned out by the noise of people who just don’t like being uncomfortable.

One is a condition.

The other is a low tolerance for inconvenience.

And pretending they’re the same doesn’t make you self-aware.

It just makes you a bit loud.