The social media loop we all live in

Sujata Gautam

(sujatagautam2017@gmail.com)

Every morning, before our eyes adjust to the light of a new day, we reach for our phones. It has become an instinct rather than a choice to scroll through updates, notifications, and stories that tell us what others are doing, thinking, or pretending to feel. What began as a tool for connection has quietly evolved into a loop, a pattern of validation and comparison that we all live in, knowingly or unknowingly. The irony is that the more we try to stay connected, the more disconnected we sometimes feel. Social media was born out of a beautiful idea: to bridge distances, to keep people close, and to give every voice a platform. For many, it still serves that purpose. Families separated by miles share their daily lives with a swipe. Old classmates reconnect. Artists, writers, entrepreneurs, and others find an audience that once felt unreachable. It democratised visibility; everyone could be seen, heard, and celebrated. But somewhere along the way, it began to consume more than it offered. The human mind thrives on validation. A simple acknowledgement, a smile, a nod, or a word of appreciation fuels us. Social media amplified this instinct into numbers. Likes, hearts, views, and followers became the new metrics of worth. The brain, wired to seek reward, found instant gratification in these signals. A photo that gathered attention felt like success; a post ignored felt like rejection. Without realising, we began to measure our days not by experiences but by the reactions they could generate. It is not uncommon now to see people taking pictures of food before tasting it or adjusting angles repeatedly to capture the "candid" shot. The line between living a moment and performing it has blurred. Even our emotions are curated. Joy, grief, and outrage, all dressed up for public display. When something good happens, we think of how it would look on Instagram. When something painful happens, we wonder whether to share it or hide it. The audience is always in our head. This constant self-presentation is exhausting. Behind the smiling faces and carefully written captions, many people carry the weight of unseen fatigue. Studies have shown that prolonged social media use can trigger anxiety, depression, and loneliness, not necessarily because of what others post, but because of how we interpret it. Everyone seems happier, more successful, and more in control. We forget that we are comparing our behind-the-scenes to someone else's highlight reel. The result is quiet dissatisfaction, a sense of falling behind in a race no one signed up for. The loop deepens when algorithms take over. What we see online is not a mirror of the world but a reflection of what keeps us scrolling. If we linger on one kind of post, the system gives us more of the same. Slowly, we are fed a narrow version of reality that confirms our biases and shapes our thoughts. Outrage travels faster than nuance. Opinions are formed in seconds, empathy gets lost in noise, and attention spans shrink. It becomes easier to react than to reflect. The more time we spend online, the more we become predictable data points in someone else's design. Yet, even in this loop, there are moments of genuine connection. A friend's message on a difficult day. A stranger's comment that feels kind. A story that inspires us to think differently. Social media, despite its flaws, still holds immense power for good. It amplifies movements, spreads awareness, and offers a voice to those who may otherwise go unheard. It helps us find communities built around shared passions or pain. But to use it well, we must learn to step out of it, to view it as a space, not a mirror. Taking breaks, setting limits, and choosing authenticity over aesthetics are not acts of rebellion but of self-preservation. The idea is not to abandon social media but to reclaim it. Posting less often, engaging more meaningfully, and unfollowing accounts that drain rather than uplift - these small acts can change our relationship with the digital world. It is about reminding ourselves that what we see is never the full story. Real life does not need filters or validation to matter. One of the quiet dangers of this loop is how it affects younger minds. Teenagers growing up in the era of constant connectivity are often left navigating self-worth through screens. Their identities are shaped by public feedback at an age when they should be exploring privately. For them, silence online can feel like invisibility, and invisibility feels like failure. Schools and parents have a role to play here, not by banning platforms but by teaching balance, empathy, and media literacy. They need to know that being seen is not the same as being known.

In the end, the question is not whether social media is good or bad. It is simply powerful, and like all powerful tools, it reflects the intent of those who use it. The loop exists because we feed it with attention, with emotion, with time. Every time we pause before reacting, every time we choose to log off and live a moment for ourselves, we weaken its hold a little. Perhaps that is where balance lies, not in deleting apps or rejecting technology, but in remembering that life is larger than what fits into a frame. The laughter that isn't recorded, the conversation without interruptions, the walk taken without documenting it - these are moments that make us whole. The screen may show a version of life, but not life itself. As we scroll through endless feeds, it helps to ask: why am I here? Is it to connect, to learn, to express or simply to escape? The answer changes from day to day, but the awareness keeps us grounded. We can still enjoy social media, share our stories, and celebrate others, but without losing sight of what truly matters: the unfiltered, unposted life happening quietly behind the screen. The loop will always exist, but stepping out of it, even for a while, reminds us that connection was never meant to be counted in numbers. It was meant to be felt.