I hate Instagram with a passion. I’ve had an account since I was 17, and back then, it was just a fun way to keep up with friends, share random moments, and post the occasional poorly filtered photo. There wasn’t much to scroll through—just pictures of people I knew, a few memes, and the occasional travel photo. It was all pretty simple and easy to keep up with. I wasn’t addicted to it—I’d check it now and then, scroll a bit, and move on.

But over the years, Instagram has morphed into a massive content farm, churning out an endless stream of posts, stories, reels, and suggestions designed to keep me scrolling. With the rise of AI content, I don’t even want to imagine what the future might look like. Writing this article might seem hypocritical since I still have an account and occasionally log in, but I can’t ignore how much my relationship with the platform has changed. It’s gone from being a casual pastime to something that feels intrusive, even harmful. So, here I am, venting about the very app I can’t seem to completely quit—yet. But hear me out.

Why I hate Instagram?

Everything is cringe: One of the worst things about Instagram is the way it stifles authentic expression. Heaven forbid I do anything that isn’t deemed “cool” or “trendy”. The fear of being labeled “cringe” is enough to stop me from sharing something genuinely personal or different. I’ve found myself second-guessing every story I’ve posted, wondering if it’ll be seen as lame or well, “cringe”. This constant self-censorship takes away from the fun and spontaneity that should come with sharing moments on social media.

The illusion of perfection: Every time I open up Instagram, I am bombarded with perfection, everyone’s life looks perfect—everyone except me, that is. It’s hard not to fall into the trap of thinking that everyone else is constantly happy, living their best lives, and achieving all their goals. Meanwhile, I’m left wondering why my life looks less glamorous. One of my friends, who’s really into fitness and has a great muscular body, shared how even though he works hard at the gym, he feels like he’s not good enough. The algorithm pushes posts on him, making him feel like everyone else has a more refined physique, as though his efforts don’t measure up. Another friend of mine, who’s still figuring out his future, feels like a failure when he scrolls through posts of people much younger than him who seem to have already achieved more than he ever has. And for me, it was the feeling that I was going nowhere. Watching my friends and even random people I’ve never met go on adventures, living their lives to the fullest, made me feel like I wasn’t living enough. Instagram seems to have the power to show me a constant stream of moments where it feels like everyone else is doing something important—something I should be doing. Then there are influencers — whose whole lives revolve around being perfect. Their posts are full of idealized lifestyles, flawless selfies, and products they’re paid to endorse. Everyone seems to have it all—beautiful homes, perfect skin, and endless vacations. The pressure to live up to these unattainable standards is very overwhelming.

The Never-Ending Scroll: Instagram’s algorithm is designed to keep me hooked, showing me endless content that I can’t resist clicking on. Before I know it, hours have passed, and I’ve wasted all my time scrolling through the same recycled content. But what’s worse is the constant need to check my phone. I find myself reaching for it at every free moment—while eating, while waiting in line, and even during two minutes of silence in a room. Even if I force myself to not look at my phone, and talk to the other person that I am with, guess what they are doing, you guessed it right, scrolling Instagram reels. It’s like no one is truly present anymore. Everyone wants the next distraction, the next post, the next piece of validation.

The Toxicity of Comment Sections: Let’s not forget about the comment sections, which are often filled with negativity, judgment, and sometimes outright cruelty. Aww!!! This is such a wholesome post, let me check the comments. Whoops bad idea. The amount of times this has happened to me is overwhelming. Whether it’s trolling, body-shaming, or petty arguments, the atmosphere in these sections can be downright toxic.

What have I done about it?

Delete the app, duh!: After realizing the negative impact Instagram was having on me, I knew it was time for a change. The first thing I did was remove the Instagram app from my phone entirely. Instead, I logged into the web app on my laptop, which I only use on weekends. Now, I only access Instagram when I need to post something or when the urge to check in hits, usually because of FOMO. Creating a small hurdle by limiting my access to my personal laptop helps me pause and think twice before opening Instagram. More often than not, that extra step prevents me from diving into the app, and I find myself spending that time on something more meaningful instead.

Finding something else: I’ve also started replacing the time I would’ve spent mindlessly scrolling through Instagram with activities that bring me genuine joy and happiness, not just fleeting dopamine hits. Reading has become one of my favorite ways to unwind, allowing me to dive into different worlds and ideas. Music is another outlet I’ve embraced—it’s the perfect way to relax and get lost in something that brings me peace, without the constant bombardment of the curated chaos on social media.

No short-form content: I’ve also made a strict rule for myself: no short-form content. I used to binge-watch reels or YouTube Shorts whenever I had free time, convincing myself it was okay since it was during my downtime. But I started to notice how those “quick five minutes” of unwinding would inevitably spiral into 30 minutes—or more—of endless scrolling. Worse, every time I returned from the app to the real world, everything around me felt inadequate. It was like a black hole, draining my time, energy, and sense of contentment. Now, I consciously and forcefully avoid any form of short content. Surprisingly—or perhaps not so surprisingly—this decision has been incredibly freeing. It’s given me back control over my time and allowed me to focus on activities that genuinely add value to my life.

Vent, vent and more vent: And finally, I’ve started venting about it. I make it a point to talk about how much I dislike Instagram to anyone who will listen—friends, family, or, when no one’s around, even to myself. I’ve even wrote a blog about it. It’s oddly therapeutic. Venting helps me process my thoughts and reminds me that it’s okay to acknowledge the negativity Instagram brings—it doesn’t have to control how I feel or think.

End notes

These small steps have helped me regain some control over my relationship with social media, but I know fully detaching from Instagram’s grip isn’t easy. It’s almost laughable when I think about it—imagine telling someone in the 2000s that one of my biggest problems today is not being able to put my phone down. What a world, right?