Comparisons, Crisis & Calc 2

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Reporting live from the Boston suburbs, where I’ll be hiding out until mid-August. No sweaty subway. No NYC interns. Just Super Beefs (3-way), a lot of golf & utter bliss. My life is perfect.

Anyways, yesterday I tweeted this:

That one hit a nerve. Because we’ve all been there. Scrolling through some over-saturated screenshot someone watermarked like it’s the Mona Lisa, wondering if we're doing something wrong. "Wait, they're up 400% YoY? I’m down 6% and pacing to cry myself to sleep?"

Comparison, as the wise old Teddy Roosevelt once said, is the thief of joy. And nowhere is that truer than on the Internet—specifically, social media.

Which brings me to a fun summer challenge my girlfriend and I took on: we deleted Instagram. Not in a dramatic “I’m taking a break, text me if you need me” kind of way. Just a silent removal. And what started as a screen-time reduction tactic turned into something… better.

I’m happier. I’m more present.

I’m not seeing Steve from college post his third shirtless Amalfi Coast pic with a caption like “this view tho 😍” while I eat leftovers and work through a forecasting model.

I didn’t realize how often I’d scroll through stories and start questioning if I was a failure because I wasn’t cliff diving in Capri before my 9am standup. Like... sorry my Tuesday didn’t include a avocado toast & jetskis?

Which is dumb, because I’m a (sorta) grown adult with a receding hairline, shoulder pain, and a to-do list that includes “buy water shoes on Prime Day.” I’m doing fine. You are too.

No offense to the influencers, the fitness warriors, the foodies, the “soft life” girlies, or the business bros with their jet lagged airport selfies and 2X CAC reduction tips—but the whole system is set up to make us feel inferior. Even when we know it’s all a curated illusion.

Sure, when I see Timothée Chalamet on a private jet, I have the mental stability to be like, “Okay, different universe.”
But when I see Steve—who I sat next to in Calc 2—sitting front row at Wimbledon? Suddenly I’m questioning everything.
Why am I not at Wimbledon?!

But the real question is:
Why the fuck do I know where Steve from Calc 2 is right now?!

Here’s the ChatGPT line: An endless cycle of flexing and self-comparison, where humility goes to die and joy gets slowly chipped away by the dopamine drip of someone else’s highlight reel.

So if you’ve been feeling low-key worse about yourself lately… maybe it's not you. Maybe it's just Zuck’s dumb app.

Try logging off for a bit. Or unfollowing the noise. Or just reminding yourself that no one’s showing the full story—only the tasty, edited bits.

Remember, you're allowed to have a boring day. Boring days rule. You’re allowed, nay, you SHOULD, go for a walk and not post about it.

PS: BTW, I’m guilty here. I’ve posted plenty of “look at me” content too. We all have. It's the game. But it’s a trap.