Just Post It

TL;DR: I started Honestly Compulsive to condition myself to post without curation and in a way that feels most authentic to me. Stick around!

Howdy! Hi! Hello!

I was talking to someone (damn, an expired "situationship," okay!) a little while back about how posting on Instagram has become something we "think about" and how we don't "just post" anymore.

I began reminiscing about the days when folks "just posted" without analyzing every pixel of a selfie, crafting the perfect cheeky caption, and conforming to social media expectations and pressures. It was an era when we shared content without much scrutiny. Sharing whatever we wanted, however, and whenever 

I continued down memory lane, recounting how fun Snapchat was circa 2012 until I was abruptly booted off my trip by a scoffed, "We just aren't there anymore." I felt a tinge of sadness hearing that. The conversation moved on, and days passed, but those words kept resurfacing.

I mulled over those words for the next few days, eventually realizing that my momentary sadness came from being part of the "we." What's odd is that I don't remember actively becoming part of the "we". As social media evolved, my posting behaviors also evolved rather seamlessly. I no longer make carefree posts; instead, I overthink and leave posts to rot in the draft graveyard. I've always loved reading lengthy Instagram captions, but I somehow feel embarrassed to write them. I'll admit that I've even archived a long captioned post partly because of "post-vulnerability clarity" but mainly because the thought of someone curling their upper lip and thinking, "I ain't reading all that," was too humbling. 

In reality, it wasn't only sadness I felt in response to "we just aren't there anymore"; it was a shame. There I was, grumbling about how social media changed as if my shit don't stink.

After confronting my hypocrisy, I came up with an idea. What if I leaned into my desire to break away from the "we"? What if I "just posted" until it became my new normal? What if I stopped caring if my content didn't always fit our highly curated visual content era? What if I stuck to my preference for text over visuals? What if I started writing about whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted? 

So, in true Capricorn fashion, I consulted with myself, answered my own questions, devised a plan to break free from this self-imposed suppression, and— viola, my Substack was born. Also, if I'm being honest, storing short essays and haphazard thoughts in my notes app wasn't cutting it anymore (plus, the eye strain was getting ridiculous).

I don't have an actual game plan for this Substack. But that's the heart of it. I want this Substack to evoke the spirit of social media circa 2012, before it became overcomplicated and curated. Unfettered. Arbitrary. Imperfect. Spontaneous. Blemished. Just like life. 

Some days, I may write about heartbreak, the gift of community, and the complexities of adulthood. On other days, I may rant about how today's R&B ain't "R&B-ing" (we're in a real lovers deficit, y'all!). Some writings won't always follow the rules and structures of language; there could be quotations where they don't need to be or excessive use of em dashes— I'm also getting back into writing, so be nice!

Anyway, that's the backstory of Honestly Compulsive. It's a space for me to "just post." People may read it, or they might not. Folks might like it or not give a toss about it. Maybe through this unrepressed posting journey, I'll learn that shame is no match for my ego. I really don't know the outcome, nor do I have expectations, but I am committed to at least trying this out. I owe it to myself. 

Till next time!