I spent forty minutes editing a photo of my breakfast this morning. Not the eating. Just the photo. I moved the cup, tried three different angles, adjusted the light by opening the curtains and then closing them partway, cropped it, ran it through a filter, compared it to how a similar photo performed last month. The breakfast got cold. The actual meal, which I made because I was hungry, went cold while I was perfecting the image of it. I ate it cold and barely tasted it.

The version of my life that exists in photos is more composed than the life itself. It has better light and more intentional moments and a consistent aesthetic. The real version has crumbs and bad angles and the wrong kind of tired. I've started to feel the gap between them more often - the slight shame of the unfiltered moment, the slight relief when a photo turns out right. What are you presenting that you never actually feel? When did that start taking up so much time?