So I am an 18 year old. No, 19, in a couple of hours at least. My knowledge of the world is a blur of good morals for Instagram and what a snatched waist line with a blessed derriere can get you. Ten things that are of importance? A series of bad decisions and examples I, myself never make the cut but I can’t go to the next number before I confirm Rihanna is on the list. I only remember I have family members when Safaricom alerts me of my low data bundle or when my snapchat story has too much of me and it may seem plausible that I am a loner.
My confidence cannot be shaken, my head is held higher because I have more likes on my last post than the followers of my archrivals combined. Every now and then I post a little nudity, enough to keep the ladies sneering and maintain the gents’ raging hormones. Works each time. I can easily Kardashian myself all the way to the top of the Instagram chain.
I have loyal Instagram friends, the ones I meet up with just to take cute pictures or sit with by the pool and document a tale about pool sides and back sides. They are always up beat when it comes to trendsetting- they mirror me in every fashion- literally. Never afraid of retrieving their phones for a quick selfie especially in the bathroom. They use words such as ‘fam’, ‘ION’, ‘bruh’ and ‘woke’. I barely know them, but I am not God so I don’t have to . Soon, I will be the most sought for individual after my 100K follower mark.
I wake up to emojis and hashtags- this is code for grammers. The pressure of being a shade lighter than I really am, to have that new Huddah Vamp lipstick and the the Veetox slimming tea just to be considered ‘woke’. My face is fifty shades of orange after I bought ‘mafuta’ at Odeon, I barely remember proper English, since I started speaking Kardashian and I have ten more years on the Instagram lifeline to be Kendal or Ken-not.
My parents would deny me three times or simply Jimmy-Gait from the stance of my account. You need to understand Shaniqwa lives at Kileleshwa on Mondays and Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays she flies over to Nyali for ‘work’, Fridays to Sundays she is behind the wheel of a car she can’t pronounce the name. She loves Chanel but writes it as Channel because it’s a group thing and only her circle would get it but nobody in the world cares because having 100K shillings is more important than 100K followers. But they still follow her and like her pictures because it’s a distraction from their morbid social lives and atrocity not to know what the kool kid wears.
I am a nineteen year old letting half naked pictures of women, lavish lifestyles and fast luxurious cars tell me what life should be like. No emphasis on the need to be educated, was not warned that riches fade, people are a counterfeit just like the next Willy Paul’s ‘Gospel’ song and drinking clean water does not affect my melanin. All I care about is whether my waist is 25 inches and my butt 45 with an overflow of double D cleavage, my lit shoe game and if I have a forehead or a fivehead. My boyfriend’s beard game and his ability to shower me with gifts every five minutes is an added plus because this is the Real Teenagers of Instagram Season 1 and Instagram goals do matter! #rme