There’s always a moment of hesitation before I check up on what I was doing a year ago, two years ago, even five years ago, through the magic temporal travel device, Facebook Timehop. Usually, what I see makes me so queasy with embarrassment that I want to reach down my throat and pull out my stomach; or chop off my fingers to prevent myself from penning further sickening statuses. They say you should be careful with what you publish on the internet because of who might see it; I think the main warning should be the fact that you yourself will see it in years to come.  

It seems that I had a penchant for copying out song lyrics when I was fourteen (*cough* seventeen *cough*) that totally “captured” how I was feeling at that moment in time. I made them extra edgy and cool by discarding capitalisation and line breaks, often adding unnecessary full stops for extra emphasis. For anyone wondering, the genius lyrical artistry of Avril Lavigne and Amy MacDonald graced my wall on many an occasion. Now, I look at them and wonder who I thought would have read them, whether I wanted anyone to read them, why I wanted to share those words with the world… well, my selected Facebook friends.  

Occasionally, I will click on Timehop to be faced with an old photo: a distant friend staring at me through the bright LED screen. And, rather than grimace painfully, I grin, thankful for being reminded of a good night out a few years ago.  

Websites like Facebook are supposed to “connect” us: we’re invited to “share” photos and articles, add new friends, “like” company pages. But, in reality, Facebook is often more of an ego trip than anything else – to which Timehop draws attention. I defy anyone to honestly say that they’ve never, in their Facebook lifetime, posted a link or video with the sole aim of showing off that they’re highly intellectual or 'in the know' with regards to the latest in politics, hit songs or fashion trends. Recalling the photos that pop up now and again, I think of the “selfie” phenomenon. I’m as guilty as the next person when it comes to vainly snapping away on nights out – spending more time trying to catch my “good side” than having a good time. Then, there’s the uploading: each photo going through a rigorous process of scrutinisation before being approved as fit for Facebook. 

I am vigilant about uploading photos, and yes this comes with a small hint of megalomania; but, really, this is because I can’t afford to print my photos anymore and no longer have the time to file them in chronologically organised albums or position them jauntily in themed scrapbooks. So now I use my Facebook as a virtual photo album that I can flick through from time to time.  

In this way, Facebook is like a catalogue of our lives, a digital bibliography. Yet, I find that the busier and happier I am in life, the less I use Facebook: I browse when I’m bored; I post when I’m needy. It is a shadowy and patchy record of my life. If my hypothetical children were to look through my account, as I would leaf through a box of my mother’s old photos and mementos, I would hate to think they would be embarrassed by my old posts – or worse, disappointed in me and my ego-centric, attention-seeking statuses – maybe even just bemused: on this day in 2010 I made a status that read, “1 banana, 2 banana, 3 banana, 4.” Why? I’ll tell you: bored and needy. 

Timehop satisfies my nostalgic tendencies, like reminiscing with an old friend. But it’s like that friend who never lets you forget that one time you spewed in the college bar toilets – it never fails to humiliate you. I am grateful for it, though, because being reminded of my previous displays of self-importance or outright stupidity helps me to be a better person (I hope). Really, though, it’s true: knowing how awful what I posted three years ago seems now means that I can anticipate how horrific my current posts will look in years to come. I try to think twice about posting (emphasis on the “try”) and evaluate whether I really need to validate myself through publishing parts of my life; whether these are photos I really need to share or should keep as a mental picture, a real memory. As I said, Facebook provides us all with an unique record, but it is not complete, especially that which Timehop churns out everyday. I can’t see what my friends were doing on this day four years ago, or what events in the news we were all talking about in REAL life. Though we’re “sharing”, it’s really just a sequence of solitary statuses; it’s a one sided, self-centred conversation a lot of the time (and, the irony is, if Varsity publishes this, I will be self-promoting my article with a link on your news feeds).

Timehop has made me more self-aware of my Facebook persona, perhaps because of its self-indulgent nature, but it has also reminded me that this persona is definitely not reflective of my real personality – that, and the embarrassing mishaps worthy of cringey statuses that comes with it, I leave for the physical world.