At times, you want to be alone. Not lonely just alone. To silence the world around you and just be.
This weekend, that’s exactly what I did. No Instagram. No WhatsApp. No endless scrolling. I logged out not just from the apps, but from the chaos. And it wasn’t some grand act of discipline or enlightenment. I was simply exhausted. Emotionally cluttered. Spiritually drained. I needed a break, and I didn’t even realize how badly.
At first, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My fingers, like some muscle memory, kept drifting toward my phone. I’d unlock it, swipe out of habit, only to be met with nothing. And that nothing was louder than I expected. I felt the urge to check a status to see if they had posted something, or viewed mine. I kept thinking, “Has anyone texted me?” And by anyone, I mean very specific people. The kind whose attention, or lack of it, somehow feels heavier than others’.
It was uncomfortable. Like going through withdrawal. That’s when I realized just how attached I had become. Not to the apps, but to the validation. The illusion of connection. The need to be seen. It was unhealthy, really. The constant watching, checking, refreshing, hoping. And in the quiet absence of all that noise, I finally noticed how loud my mind had become. Filled with questions like: Why does their silence feel like punishment? Why do I feel invisible when I’m offline?
As the hours passed, the silence shifted. I stopped checking my phone so obsessively. I started checking in with myself. I began to notice small things again: the texture of my thoughts, the softness of a moment unshared, the peace that came from not being “on.” I journaled. I stared at the sky. I breathed without a filter. I remembered what it was like to feel without needing to post about it.
Don’t get me wrong there were moments of restlessness. I missed the distraction. Missed that fake sense of importance that comes from being active online. But I also felt a kind of freedom I hadn’t tasted in a long while. No pressure to reply immediately. No stress about being left on read. No subconscious competition with people I don’t even talk to anymore. I started to hear myself again my real voice. Not the curated version. Not the one shaped by the algorithm. The one that doesn’t need likes to exist.
Logging out didn’t change the world, but it changed me. Even if just for a while. It reminded me that I’m not just a presence online I’m a person. A breathing, healing, evolving human being. One who deserves peace, even when the phone is silent.
I won’t lie at times, I still do long for that feeling the little rush when someone replies, the quiet thrill of being seen. But then again I’ve learned that real connection doesn’t need to scream. It doesn’t need to constantly ping or flash or vibrate. Sometimes, the most valuable connection is the one you build within yourself the kind that doesn’t vanish when the Wi-Fi cuts out.
So, to anyone who feels overstimulated, overlooked, or overwhelmed maybe you don’t need to disappear. Maybe you just need to pause. Tune out the world, so you can finally tune into yourself. And if you’re brave enough to try it even for a day tell me how it feels. Or don’t. Maybe keep it just for you. Because not everything has to be posted to be real.
