Stop Swimming in the Dead Pool

Death and social media

The awful news about a social media person taking their own life really hits hard, doesn't it? But it also makes you wonder, in a pretty serious way: why on earth didn't they just quit? I mean, seriously, why stick with that awful, toxic social media when it clearly messes with your head so much? It's baffling, frankly.

Honestly, as a society, we've totally lost our way. It's like we've forgotten what's real. "Clicks," "likes," and trying to make money from online "influence" seem way more important than, you know, actual life. It's mind-boggling. A whole generation has grown up thinking that a digital world full of nasty trolls, weird online groups, angry activists, and super boring "influencers" actually matters. And I'm not just talking a little bit; they think it's genuinely important. Seriously, I don't care what Barry from the pub thinks when he's had a few too many, or what Julia at the shops is gossiping about, so why would I bother with the badly written, often cruel nonsense from "DevilInPravda" or "KingSoloMan" splashed all over the digital wasteland of Reddit, Instagram, Facebook, or X? It just doesn't compute.

The truth, plain and simple, boils down to two sneaky, deeply ingrained problems that have taken root in our culture: the tempting lure of easy money and a deep, gnawing feeling of not being good enough. These two things feed each other in a truly unhealthy cycle.

Social media today is like a super clever, masterfully designed addiction machine. It constantly dangles the illusion of getting rich quick in front of everyone's eyes, especially young people. It turns every personal thought, every perfectly posed photo, every little feeling into potential content that can earn a buck. It's truly a deal with the devil, isn't it? You trade your precious peace of mind for little scraps of digital attention and fleeting internet cash. An "influencer" isn't really influencing anyone in a meaningful way; they're just performing, always, relentlessly, under the harsh, unblinking glare of countless anonymous eyes. Think about it: every "like" is a quick hit of good feelings, a tiny shot of dopamine to the brain. But then, losing followers or getting a negative comment feels like a punch to the gut, a real emotional blow. This isn't a proper job; it's a constant, stressful treadmill, a performance trap where the show just has to go on, no matter what, even if the person is quietly falling apart inside, piece by piece. The pressure to always be "on," always be engaging, always be relevant, is simply immense and utterly unsustainable for anyone's mental health. It's a relentless race to the bottom, and your well-being pays the price.

And what, pray tell, keeps this desperate, exhausting act going? A deep, widespread, almost epidemic problem with how we see ourselves, our inherent worth. These platforms aren't just simple stages for sharing photos; they're mental battlegrounds where real, tangible value gets swapped for fake, meaningless numbers. Your worth isn't measured by your kindness, your integrity, your unique character, or what you actually contribute to the tangible world around you. Nope, it's all about how many hearts and thumbs-up you can accumulate, how many virtual high-fives you get. We're constantly forced into this non-stop, utterly draining comparison game. Think about it: you're always seeing perfect lives - edited photos, fake smiles, impossible achievements, exotic vacations you could never afford. This endless stream of curated perfection inevitably leads to that sickening feeling of looking at someone else's "best" life and then feeling like your own, ordinary life just doesn't measure up. The result? A generation riddled with self-doubt, always feeling like they're not quite enough, forever chasing a digital ghost of approval that's never, ever going to truly satisfy them. It's an empty pursuit. When your very sense of self is tied to what some algorithm decides is popular, or to the arbitrary, often cruel, judgment of random strangers online, "disconnecting" isn't just turning off your phone; it feels like cutting off a lifeline, even if it's a terrible, destructive one. The fear of being invisible or irrelevant online can become paralyzing.

Yeah, let's be honest, we've got a generation messed up by all this "reality TV" and "digital life" stuff. They've been fed a diet of curated fantasy, and now they struggle with actual reality. But the ultimate "reality" is a much, much harder one when the sheer, crushing weight of the digital world becomes too much to bear. When all these made-up pressures, the relentless need for external validation, and the fake connections lead straight to overwhelming sadness and, tragically, to suicide, we don't just have a problem; it's a huge, undeniable disaster for everyone! This isn't just happening by chance; it's a direct, frightening result of us all getting hooked on this digital feel-good drug, this manufactured online existence. It's high time we faced that truth head-on.

The fix, though it sounds surprisingly simple, is fiercely hard to do: Disconnect. And stay disconnected. It's that straightforward, yet incredibly challenging. Shut down those feeds, every single one of them. Delete the apps, scrub them from your devices. Break free from the constant notifications and that never-ending, soul-crushing cycle of comparison. Take back your precious time, reclaim your scattered focus, rediscover your true, intrinsic worth. Get back to the messy, sometimes inconvenient, but absolutely amazing reality of talking to actual people face-to-face - the kind of interactions that happen away from the screen, where genuine, deep connections are built with shared laughter, quiet, present moments, and all the honest, beautiful imperfections of real life. That's where meaning truly resides.

The internet, in its current state, offers nothing but a cheap, fleeting imitation of meaning, connection, and self-worth. Real life, real purpose, real self-worth, and ultimately, real peace, only exist in the lively, tangible world outside that digital cage. The choice is stark, isn't it? You can keep drowning in that toxic mess of showing off and needing outside approval, or you can fight your way back, claw your way back, to the nourishing, sometimes tough, but absolutely real world that's patiently waiting for you. Choose wisely! Your sanity, and perhaps your life.