Excerpt from this article:
Even if a tweet didn’t ruin your life, you still have an archive of embarrassment that Facebook has diligently saved for you: ill-advised jokes, too-earnest expressions of emotion, and photos in which we simply look terrible. While movements like #deletefacebook were ostensibly about protecting your data from corporations, perhaps they also reflected a desire for another kind of privacy: a way to just erase all that unflattering history.
So we developed ad-hoc fixes: anonymous Twitter accounts, teen “Finstagrams,” group texts, private Slacks, deactivating Facebook when you’re not online. (They’re not perfect. It only took a few hours Gizmodo to find James Comey’s supposedly secret Twitter account.) The decline in oversharing wasn’t just about the difficulty of maintaining a pristine persona; it was also that the space for oversharing started to feel inappropriate, and sometimes even unsafe.
In response, tech companies have leaned hard on the “story.” The disappearing images and videos were first popularized by Snapchat, but are showing up everywhere else, too. The beauty of stories is that they are messier and rougher than regular posts, focused on fun and immediacy instead of how they’ll look in hindsight. And why shouldn’t they be? A few hours later, they’ll just delete. Instagram claims 300 million daily users of the feature.
What happens next is probably not the overthrow of Facebook or Twitter— especially now that those platforms are making a lot of noise about how they want to change. The need for an online presence, even if it’s just LinkedIn, is a big historical shift, not just a fad.