There is an internet obsession that’s been going around for quite a while. A bunch of keyboard gangsters decided to form a clique – cliché. But, anyway this is the ‘cool rich kids’ clique. From exclusive parties to high-end restaurants, to rolling in mobiles with loud systems that be banging more than Paris Hilton in a sex tape to holidays raves at exclusive out of town joints. They have a characteristic swag – snapbacks, lumberjack shirts, a hanging gold chain, pants worn below the waist exposing some designer belt – most commonly Louis Vuitton. (Lemme not forget the characteristic YSL black t-shirt)
They have this unwritten secret code, to make anyone else feel inferior. Should you be brave enough to dare venture the streets of Instagram on a Friday evening, you might just end up locking yourself up in your bedroom and hugging your blankets all night long.
You find all sorts of pictures, for instance you will see a young guy – not much older than 19 in their characteristic outfits rocking ray ban glasses and wielding an expensive 12 year old single malt whiskey in one hand with the other hand on the steering of an impressive German machine with grained wood interior finish and bespoke white leather upholstery. The caption usually looks something like, ‘Stepping out ‘
God knows I step out in shorts, red pata-pata, a white promotional t-shirt and wielding a fifty bob note – because I have holes for pockets. Mind you, the fifty bob note is purposefully to purchase airtime for bundles so I can continuously continue to ogle at a lifestyle that I believe should be rightfully mine. Sound familiar?
Not anymore, a while back a cock crowed, the mist cleared and the warm rays of sunshine kissed my conscience and it dawned on me – see what I did? There’s so much that goes on behind a lens. There is more than meets the eye.
There are the posers – fake people that borrow for their photo shoots.
Then there are the ‘play harders’ – as a result of hard work they can play hard (it doesn’t have to be their work, it could be a great ancestors, but it’s still a part of them)
Then the wannabe’s – with great stories of nights that never happened (They will avoid photographic evidence at all costs with lame excuses such as stolen phones or no camera policy e.t.c)
Then… Me – In my own little world, spinning my little words trying to make a big difference. Not cool, not rich, but just a kid.