Pop Culture

Twice by Catfish And The Bottlemen

Now Playing

Catfish And The Bottlemen Twice
Front Facing Camera

Dear Front Facing Camera, 

HIYA. Hope you're well. First of all, let me say, I love your work. I mean, the pictures from the office Christmas party of 2014 belong in the Museum of Modern Art. My small Instagram following went wild for those pics. Couldn't have done it without you. Now, it's been a long time coming, but I think we need to chat about a few things. A few very important things. 

Why am I so terrifically ugly according to you? 
Is there anything more harrowing than catching a glimpse of your own face in the front facing camera? Why do I have so many chins? Why does my make up look like I applied it in a very dark cave? Why am I sweating? Have I always looked like this? Is this really my aesthetic? Why do you have to be so cruel, front facing camera? Let me maintain the illusion that I am a moderately good looking person. Whenever I accidentally catch a glimpse of myself in you I begin to question everything. You are my existential downfall. 

Why is it so hard to find good lighting? 
Once every 40 years there is good lighting while using my front facing camera. Why do Instagram models and Kardashian sisters always seem to have good lighting while I'm out here shrouded in darkness? The struggle is definitely real and you're doing nothing to help. 

Why doesn't my face look the same in my front facing as it does in other reflective surfaces? 
Why do I look in the mirror and see a fly as hell, carefree young adult and then open my front facing camera and see Methusela? I know what I look like, and yet, when I look in you, I can't be so sure. Why do you have to be so different? So petty? I just want to take a good selfie after spending an hour getting ready. Is that too much to ask? 

Why does my mom find you so complicated to use? 

Why does my mom always send me texts when she is with her friends saying that none of them know how to open the front facing camera? Why? 

Why do you never manage to capture the full fleekiness of my eyebrows? 
If I told anyone how long I spent on my eyebrows this morning, I would never be able to face my family again. Why don't they look like they were carved by the Gods in my selfies? 

I appreciate that you are quite busy so it might take you a while to get back to me, but I'd love to hear your thoughts on the issues I have raised. 

Yours Eternally, 

Selfie-less in San Jose 


Have your say