Picture this it’s 2007

 I can't give you an exact date for my first social media experience because, well, I wasn’t technically allowed to have one until I was 12. And no, it wasn’t even the classic Facebook or MySpace—it was some Christian knock-off site designed like Facebook, but for the holy crowd. I couldn’t tell you the name if my life depended on it, because I’ve fully blocked it from memory.

 

Meanwhile, my friends were living their best lives on MySpace, flaunting their top 6 and blasting profile songs. I knew my profile song would be something glorious like “Fergalicious” by the one and only queen, Fergie. And there I was, stuck on GospelBook (okay, not really, but you get the idea), watching from the sidelines trying not to look like the green eyed monster.

 

Eventually, I wore my mom down—probably through a relentless combination of begging and strategically timed good behavior—and finally got to create my very own Facebook. I remember sitting at the family desktop, typing in all my info like I was signing a major record deal. The pressure to pick the perfect profile picture was real. Once my page was live, I proudly added all three of my school friends, because that was the entire population of my social circle at the time.

 

Looking back, I would stress for hours trying to craft the perfect post, as if I was curating a museum exhibit. And don’t even get me started on how often I refreshed the page to check for likes. My mom loved to remind me, “Whatever you post online stays there forever.” And nothing hits harder than eternal digital judgment when you’re just trying to be cute online.

 

Reflecting now I am so happy she ingrained that into me. I still see blast from the past posts and cringe internally, like who was she and why did she think that was cool.

(Pretend this is my profile song)

P