Is Social Media Making Us Lonely or Is It Just Me?

Is it just me, or does social media actually make you feel more alone—no matter how many people you follow?

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Social media gives you the illusion of being everywhere and with everyone—yet you can still feel completely alone in your room.

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I left most social media after my first year of college, once I noticed a pattern: 30 minutes of reading, 45 minutes of scrolling, repeat until I felt totally drained. Facebook, Instagram, WhatsApp—the cycle never ended.
It gave me nothing lasting, just short bursts of dopamine from memes and people’s carefully curated lives.

Social media constantly showed me polished highlights of everyone’s happiest moments, making my own life feel kind of gray by comparison. Scrolling through filtered images, I felt more and more disconnected. What was supposed to be a break left me feeling less and less satisfied.

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We compare our behind-the-scenes to everyone else’s highlight reel—and wonder why we never measure up.

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I learned from books that dopamine is like a seesaw: the more pleasure you chase, the more pain comes swinging back.
That explained the emptiness after endless scrolling—momentary fun, then a wave of “what am I doing with my life?”

My life started swinging between two extremes: being so online that I felt isolated, or socializing until I missed the clarity of solitude.
As an introvert, I thrive alone—quiet, working, recharging, letting ideas bubble up.

Social media feeds our need to be noticed. Watching influencers and celebrities, I tried posting my own happy moments, hoping for likes.
But when reactions didn’t come, disappointment set in. Eventually, I realized social media is just too crowded for real connection.
People post what grabs attention; the rest of us—restricted by family, culture, or just personality—get buried by the algorithm.

The truth: unless you serve up instant gratification, you stay invisible. Sure, social media connects like-minded people, promotes work, shows off talent. But the noise and distraction can drown out anything authentic.

FOMO (fear of missing out) is real. I’d convince myself there was something important happening online, so I’d keep checking. But almost nothing I missed ever mattered, and the news I obsessed over was rarely worth the stress.

Comparing myself to others online was unavoidable. Seeing people on vacations or living lavishly made me jealous—and I’d rationalize, “They’re just spending their dad’s money.”
But even knowing comparison is normal, breaking free took real work. Eventually, I realized authenticity is my best weapon—just being myself.

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Comparison is the thief of joy—but it’s also the currency of the feed.

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Taking breaks from social media brought surprising clarity.
I focused more on personal growth, deeper relationships, and what I actually want from life.
Time away from the feed revealed just how much I was missing out on my own story.

Algorithms make addiction easy.
I’d start with a cooking tutorial, then spiral into dopamine-heavy memes and random content.
The algorithm feels helpful at first, but ends up stealing time and energy.

Yet, social media did help me make some genuine friends.
Online gaming, for example, introduced me to people I truly connected with—even if we never met face-to-face.
Still, nothing replaces real-world friendships, the shared food and laughter and actual hugs.

I found that actively engaging—leaving comments, sending messages—made a big difference.
Just scrolling left me invisible, but participating created a sense of belonging. I even created anonymous accounts for honest interaction, and secretly connecting with a popular influencer made me feel, for once, really seen.

Every platform feels different. Twitter, for example, is more open and honest for me; LinkedIn feels all about appearances and “success theatre.” Authenticity is rare, drowned out by all the polishing and performance.

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Everyone wants to be seen. But how many of us are actually known?

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Ultimately, the pressure to always present a perfect image made me crave somewhere raw and real.
That’s why I built this blog—a place where authenticity is the only metric that counts.

Social media, especially for Gen Z, can amplify loneliness.
Physical friendships, old-school relationships, and family moments get replaced by digital likes, dating apps, and endless scrolling.
Parents hand kids phones, and even AI starts to fill the gaps—making the hidden cost of “connection” even steeper.

If I could design my own social network, it would be built for real connection:

• Friends would have to meet physically, or at least locally.
• Interactions would be about genuine conversation, not collecting likes.
• Distractions would be minimal—honest stories would be the norm, not the exception.

I sometimes wish I’d started blogging sooner, instead of letting my anxiety and stress pile up. But now, writing here, even anonymously, feels like the most honest connection I’ve ever made.
If you’re reading this, even if I don’t know you—maybe you get it. Maybe we’re both just looking for something real.

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If you feel alone in a crowd, maybe it’s time to connect in a way that counts.

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If you’ve ever felt this way, drop a message.
Your story might help someone else—and maybe, for a moment, you’ll feel a little less alone.