How Does The Presentation Of Self In Everyday Life Apply To Social Media?

When we get too much involved in the act of pretending, we lose the idea of knowing the pretense of others. Isn't that how it works? We don't know the acts we do thinking good for the others even to the extent of hurting them to save them from major hurt will cause them to go through much more than we can think of. Sometimes it is not too late to correct the pretenses but sometimes it is late to amend them. Let's see whether it is too late or just in time.

My roommate had a peculiar knack for pestering everyone into liking her posts on social media, all so she could collect enough likes to claim some prize or another. It was her way of life—nagging, nudging, and guilting us into clicking that little thumbs-up. One time, the campus beauty queen liked my roommate's ad for a facial mask. Not long after, she was in a horrific car accident. The vehicle caught fire, and her face suffered severe burns, leaving her disfigured beyond recognition. Meanwhile, my roommate seemed to undergo a miraculous transformation, her complexion turning porcelain fair and flawless as though she'd been kissed by the heavens. Then there was the academic prodigy, a shoe-in for graduate school, who liked her tutoring service post. Shortly after, he was exposed for academic fraud, and his once-brilliant reputation was reduced to ashes. Strangely enough, my roommate's research paper suddenly won an award, catapulting her to fame and fortune. And me? I fell into her trap too. I liked her rental agency ad, and before I knew it, my world crumbled. A scandal erupted, revealing that I was the result of a mix-up at birth. It turned out she was the long-lost child of wealth and privilege—a hidden gem cast into the rough, now reclaimed by her rightful family. As for me, I was packed off to the countryside village she had escaped from and forced into a brutal marriage with an old man. My life became a living hell, and eventually, I died there, broken and forgotten. But fate wasn't done with me yet. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day my roommate begged me to like her post in exchange for yet another prize.

When I started college, my new roommate secretly used my phone to take a selfie. She sent it to the guy I was in an online relationship with and added the caption: [Baby, do you think I'm beautiful?] My boyfriend replied with a giant question mark, followed by a voice message full of curses. "Just thinking about dating someone with that face makes me want to puke!" "Let's break up, you ugly freak. Stay far away from me!" By the time I got out of the shower and tried to explain, I realized he had already blocked me. My roommate, holding her own phone, smugly told me, "The streamer I've had my eye on just added me. He says he wants to start an online relationship." When I looked at the account, I saw it was none other than my ex-boyfriend.

On the day Owen Mercer and I get married, I place our marriage certificate beside our candlelit dinner. Just as I'm about to take a picture and upload it to social media, Owen suddenly says, "This certificate is fake." I freeze. A woman's startled voice comes through his phone, "Hey! Why did you tell her so soon? You ruined all the fun!" Owen frowns in frustration. "She's been completely clueless this entire time. Is there really any reason to keep pretending? Fine. You win the bet, Ms. McCoy. Are you satisfied now?" But my post has already been shared on social media. Everyone is sending their congratulations to Owen and me, celebrating that we have finally tied the knot after seven years together. The woman on the other end leaves a sarcastic comment, just like how she used to bully me back in the day. "Wow, look at you two finally making it official! So when's the reception? Hehe!" After a moment's thought, I respond, "Next week."

On my fifth birthday with Zachary Murdock, I sit once again in front of a full table of cold food, just like every year before. Zachary had promised, as always, to spend the day with me. And, as always, he breaks that promise. This year, it's because his childhood sweetheart wanted to shoot a set of "artistic photos". She invited him and a few of his close buddies to be part of it. Without hesitation, he ditches me again and runs straight into her arms. At 11:00 pm, his childhood sweetheart posts a photo to her social media and sets it so that only I can see it. In the picture, four men are in nothing but black briefs and Windsor-knotted ties. They kneel around her while she is draped in sheer fabric like a goddess. The caption reads, "Some people beg for crumbs, but I own the entire bakery." I take a screenshot. Then, I send it to the girlfriends of all three of Zachary’s best buddies. If they all look down on me this much, let's hope they don't end up on their knees begging me someday.

The most popular girl from my high school is getting married. She invites everyone in our class to the wedding. I want to act like I don't see the message, but she deliberately tags me in the group chat. "You kept pretending to be a rich girl like me in high school, but I don't hold it against you. In fact, I'll allow you to attend my wedding tomorrow to see what the rich life is like." The other classmates speak up. "You're so generous, Haley. It's no wonder you can marry someone from the Baumer family. I can't believe you can even forgive someone as materialistic as Emma!" "Does someone like Emma Larkin even deserve to attend Haley's wedding? She's so full of herself." As the insults become worse, Haley Stockwell steps forward to keep the peace. "Come on, let's put this behind us. I'm not bothered by these things since it's been so long. Anyway, let's not bear a grudge against Emma when she's already so poor and ugly." Everyone in the group chat starts singing her praises and calling her kind and innocent. I sneer. Haley is the one who kept pretending to be rich—I'm the true heiress from an affluent family, yet she made me out to be a liar. She turned me into the target of everyone's insults. I check the digital wedding invitation to see that the venue is my villa. The groom looks familiar—isn't he my husband's driver? I smile at the thought of what's going to happen. I reply, "Sure! I have to attend your wedding!"