I think social media accidentally convinced an entire generation they were supposed to be interesting at all times.

Every dinner documented. Every thought turned into a caption. Every relationship turned into a soft launch, hard launch, breakup announcement, recovery era, reinvention era… etc.

When did we stop living life and just begin curating evidence of it?

Maybe that’s why everyone feels and seems so exhausted lately. There’s so much pressure to appear interesting that people barely leave room to actually be interesting. Nobody disappears anymore. Nobody keeps anything to themselves. Every emotion is uploaded before it is fully felt.

What happened to mystery?

Maybe I noticed it because I’ve always kept a relatively low profile online myself. I’ve never been someone who posts every detail of my life or feels the need to document every moment while it’s happening. Some of my favorite memories exist nowhere except in my own head, and I think I’ve always liked it that way. (This blog might be the one exception)

This thought came to me the other night when an old college crush randomly followed me late at night after years of us not having each other on Instagram anymore.

We had quietly removed each other, the way people sometimes do in their early twenties when silence feels easier than whatever is sitting underneath it.

Back then, I liked him partly because he always felt slightly untouched by everything. While everyone was busy constructing a version of themselves online, he never really did.

And when I clicked on his profile, it felt strangely frozen in time. He hadn’t posted since college.

No endless stream of updates. No curated personality. No constant attempt to prove he is living well.

Honestly, it felt weird seeing a profile untouched now, almost refreshing.

A subtle reminder some people do still belong to themselves.

No games. Not pretending not to care. Real mystery. The kind that comes from having an inner life. Thoughts you don’t tweet. Relationships that exist happily off-camera. Decisions you make quietly.

I’ve started noticing the people I’m drawn to lately are the ones who reveal themselves slowly.

The woman who doesn’t tell everyone her plans immediately. The man who isn’t trying to become content. People who still know how to keep a little bit of themselves sacred.

There is something refreshing about someone who still has parts of themselves untouched by the internet.

And honestly, I think that’s becoming rare.

Everything now feels performative. Even vulnerability somehow feels rehearsed. People announce they’re “healing” before they’ve even sat along long enough to understand what hurt them in the first place.

We’ve mistaken visibility for connection.

But some of the best parts of life lost their meaning the second they’re performaned for an audience.

A kiss in the corner of a bar. A complicated goodbye. A weekend that changes you. A person you almost loved. A life decision you haven’t explained yet.

Not everything needs a caption while it’s happening.

Maybe the most rebellious thing someone can do right now is live a beautiful life and resist the urge to constantly prove it.

Maybe privacy is the last real luxury left.

And maybe that’s why disappearing a little felt so good, too.

Well…

I’m back.

Until the next business day.