For a tech writer, being very offline is sort of like being a marathon coach who doesn't run. So in 2025, I tried to reverse years of studied avoidance towards the most ubiquitous technological phenomenon on earth — I got back on social media. The change was short-lived.
My first exodus from the feeds took some work — disabling notifications, removing apps from my homescreen and then deleting accounts entirely. This time, the phone put itself down. The whole thing has simply lost its luster.
I started with Instagram. Every experience went like this: I'd see a single post from one of the rare family members or IRL friends who are active on the platform. Next, I was fed a sponsored post, followed by suggestions to follow randos. After that, a series of influencer videos that, admittedly, appeal to my taste (funny/absurdist women and dissertations on urban planning). That was followed up with more sponsored posts, mostly from brands I'd looked up for work. Then it'd circle back to the influencers. My eyes glazed over and I tossed the phone aside.
Years back, the platform gave off a jolt of quasi-social connection that I'd spend hours sucking up. I fed on pointless thoughts from an ex-coworker, vacation reels from a college roommate, a half-baked loaf of bread that an old friend dropped on the floor but took a picture of anyway. Now it's a bare sliver of that stuff, shoehorned between towers of sponsored content and posts from people who make or promote their living on Instagram. The real people have left. The connection is gone. The FOMO is no more.
I experienced some variation of the same disappointment on every platform I rejoined. When I got back on TikTok a few months after the ban, it felt like a frenzied shopping mall. Every video seems to be about four seconds long
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