Is it just me, or is Snapchat one of the worst apps ever created? Ever since I quit utilizing it, I’ve discovered how much more gratifying conversations are when they’re guided by a sequence of texts longer than three letters each. 

Snapchat has welcomed a new wave of low-effort conversation, where tweens and teens communicate via “wyd” messages and mirror pics with half their face being covered by the convenient draping of their hair. 

The mere idea of feeling like I owed someone a picture of my face was enough to make me consider deleting the app about a thousand times. 

Anxiety used to creep like a chill in my bones at the sound of a Snapchat notification. At first, the funny filters and customizable avatar seemed like good use of storage. 

Over time, however, keeping track of every contact and returning snaps felt like I was playing a never-ending game of tag. 

Maintaining a “streak” became a guilt-tripping method that afflicted me with distress. Granted, other apps like Duolingo have implemented similar mind games to make sure its users commit to the app. 

But this felt different.

I found myself sharing pictures with lots of people I didn’t know. They were never explicit or inappropriate, but the act stripped me from certain privacy. 

So, even though I was entertaining more connections, I was being less connective. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the experience of many. After all, Snap culture is known for being direct and concise in communication. 

The truth is I was facing a bigger challenge: Snapchat etiquette. 

Is this the only way people make friends online? How is actual communication happening via a text bar incapable of holding more than 10 characters? 

Having Snapchat alone is subjugating yourself to a whole different culture, universe. Everyone speaks the same language of supposition. More often than not, miscommunication is birthed out of this. 

The stages of any friendship become more apparent. Suddenly, someone revealing an inch more of their complexion translates to them being more invested in you, seeking further interaction. 

I’ve seen this story too many times in the context of romantic pursuits. Many will become disillusioned with the reality of omission and ghosting, altogether. 

When is snapping back too soon? What are things that should be reserved exclusively for in-person interaction? Is saving chats embarrassing? 

These were some of the worries that sunk my spirits over time. I felt like the quality of the relationship was decreasing. 

I noticed text chains between long-time friends and I were getting smaller and smaller. Suddenly, our conversation had been reduced to basic texting patterns. 

For some time I thought this was normal behavior. Being a teenager, I thought: why not go with this wave of popularity? Everyone snapped everyone, I couldn’t be the odd one out. 

Years later, I don’t regret my decision to delete Snapchat. I’m not anti-social media, but I think many of us underestimate the powerful dynamic we’re engaging in. 

For me, the issue lied in how the app itself made me feel. It was as if it held a certain domain over my social life, one I hadn’t fully consented to. 

I was being added to conversations with strangers and being sent pictures of random body parts for me to make sense out of. 

Some might say that’s just how the app works, but social motivation is intrinsic. You should talk to who you want to talk to and interact with those you choose. 

I felt like a puppet. Someone else was pulling the strings and I was following along. 

Another streak, another person knowing my location, another random stranger. It was exhausting. 

Well, what about other apps? 

The fact that social media is addictive isn’t new information. There’s a direct neurochemical response between our brains and the screen. But we have agency in deciding how much power we have in such a relationship. 

I suppose it’s true social media, in general, could manifest itself as an agent of stress, always harrowing and being emotionally taxing. 

The difference is that Snapchat felt like a draining experience. Feeling like conversation was merely real through visuals had me questioning reality often.

If you find yourself in what feels like an inescapable cycle of social dues, remember real-life conversation has never gone out of style. 

There will always be new apps, new incentives to keep you engaged. But quantity will never replace quality. 

Don’t get lost in the whirlwind of ceiling pics and texts. Chat it up in real time and redeem connectivity today.