Dear Instagram: It's You, Not Me

Dearest Instagram,

We've had some great times over the last few years. You were so young when we met, and up until recently there was never a moment I didn't love you by my side. In 2010 at Roseland ballroom when I was face-to-face with Weezer front man Rivers Cuomo, you were there with me. When I was walking near the oceanfront one morning and discovered a boat with the most inspired name ever, you were there. And when I adopted a puppy in 2011, you brought out the best in her joyful frolic with the appropriate filter. You helped me capture moments that might be completely mundane to the rest of the world but were important to me.".

When you became Facebook's trophy wife last year I defended your honor when others were ready to kick you to the curb. I stood by you and continued to share my Hefe-enhanced life, even knowing the ride may be soon coming to an end. And inevitably, it did.

Things started to get weird when you got popular and started hanging with all those teenagers. Don't get me wrong, I don't have a problem with teenagers per se, except for the fact that they recklessly consume our natural Mountain Dew resources without regard, they have no less than 10 emoticons in their profile, and their photostreams embrace the "YOLO" lifestyle, something I fervently oppose.

So naturally when you decided you absolutely had to have a photo-tagging feature, despite the fact your ecosystem is largely made of inanimate objects like burgers oozing with pepper jack, I began getting inexplicably and mercilessly tagged in photos by these ne'er-do-wells—15 times in the past month to be precise. Teenagers sure do have a lot of energy. Can't they take those shenanigans to a more appropriate forum, like Snapchat?

Your tag-happy posse isn't the only reason I'm mad. I know you started feeling insecure when that pretty new app showed up peddling its six seconds of heaven. And just like a typically jealous significant other, you decided to be a reckless copycat. As a result, instead of a quiet stream of photographic majesty, I'm now frequently assaulted by 15-second video clips of everything from the window seat view of an airplane, to limp waves hitting a beach. Because we've never seen that before, right?

I may be starting to sound like a psycho ex, but at this point I'm not sure we can salvage what we once had. You've changed too much and your popularity is messing with your judgement. If you could compromise and let me turn off tagging, or allow me to display only photos, maybe we could rekindle the magic we once had.

Waiting with anticipation,
Seamus