I think it’s bad to live your life online, yet that’s exactly what I’m doing. Day after day, night after night, I scroll on Instagram, posting, hoping, but… why?
What’s the point? In-person connection is king; I went out today to an event where I met some down-to-earth people very similar to myself. It was certainly more wholesome than liking somebody’s stories. Yet I continue to do the latter.
I unceasingly drown in the virtual reality of RGB pixels. I continue fake friendships with people whom I’ll never meet. I fall deeper and deeper into something I can’t quite make sense of.
I’m starting to really wonder: is parasocial the new antisocial?
I’d like to think that 50 years ago, once work was done, I’d just walk outside out of sheer boredom, stumble into public and spontaneously connect with those around me.
Ever see old people make small talk? That’s what I’m talking about.
It’s now very difficult to do anything spontaneously. Everything has to be organized.
But on the occasion I do go, I’m (usually) not disappointed.
Almost every meaningful connection I’ve ever made in my life was made in person by accident.
I need to do everything in my power to keep it that way.