I have long contemplated over my inspiration for Halloween - Frida Kahlo. What took her a lot of laying in bed alone to depict her own self, now takes us a second. We pull our phones, one swipe and bam, our selfie is up there staring at us.
I cannot skip sharing with you my obsession with an airbrushing app I had for a few weeks until one day I felt ashamed. I am cheating only myself with my polished, vogue-cover-like airbrushed face. But more concerning is the desire to constantly take selflies of expressions that carry nothing but shallowness. How many people actually take selfies when sad or depressed? Or when really struck by something deep, touching? Do we even take the time to look in the reflection in the mirror sometimes? To look ourselves in the eyes, to read ourselves. Do we even know ourselves deep enough to be able to put a self portrait in our head of ourselves, such that truly depicts us? Or is it just easier to snap another pointless selfie and move on?
Frida spent days looking into the mirror on the ceiling and painting her pain, her lost baby, her misery when her beloved Diego was a horny dog to leave today some masterpieces. You look at them and the more you stare, the more mesmerized you get. You see it, the genius behind the brush and so much more.
We are so busy dressing everything in technology, vanity and destructive self-pseudo love that we forget who we are. We forget to look in the mirror and look for ourselves. The age of selflies and the dying of the true self.