What a year

Dec 31, 2024

∙ Paid

Out on a walk: My black and white terrier stands in front of a sign that says STRICTLY NO DOGS ALLOWED. We are in a wooded area, with an old NUI Maynooth building in the background.

My Instagram feed is currently littered with people recapping their year, and most of them are reading like a barometer of mental health: 2024 - My Depression; the Lows and the Lows. Ultimately, it doesn’t seem very healthy, and makes me pine for the days where people just posted images of heavily filtered latte art.

Whenever I take to The Grid, before I hit post, I ask What Would My Therapist Think? Then I edit the caption to something very short and snazzy, deleting any hints of a downward spiral and eliminating any hues of revenge.

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