It\u2019s a weird feeling, the feeling of missing out.<\/p>\n
And I don’t mean missing out on a party or a dinner or a beach day. I mean the quiet kind. The kind where you’re not really sure what<\/em> you’re missing, but it feels like something. You feel it in your chest when you’re off Instagram for a bit, when your Snapchat is blank, when your screen is too still. It feels like everyone else is living and you\u2019re… just existing.<\/p>\n But are we really missing out on that much?<\/p>\n I don’t think we are, if I’m being honest. And yet it feels<\/em> overwhelming not knowing what others are doing, not seeing their stories, and not being able to share yours either. That tiny panic when you open the app and it\u2019s empty no dots, no reactions, no posts. That moment where your brain whispers, maybe I\u2019ve fallen behind.<\/em><\/p>\n But behind what, exactly?<\/p>\n When we do get on social media, what are we even looking at? What are we actually<\/em> sharing? Not the messy middle of our lives. Not the parts where we cry on the bathroom floor or overthink a text or question who we are. We share the curated moments. The good lighting, the right angles, the achievements, the filters, literal and emotional.<\/p>\n We don\u2019t post what\u2019s going on. Someone posts a story in a Mercedes, and you think wow, I wish that was me. But you don\u2019t know the full story behind that story. You don\u2019t know if it\u2019s their car, or their parent\u2019s, or a rental. You don\u2019t know the debt behind the glam, or the sadness behind the smile. You don\u2019t know the arguments, the anxiety, the pressure, the price. And more importantly, you don\u2019t know if that person even feels happy in that moment.<\/p>\n But we see the picture and tell ourselves they\u2019re ahead. That we\u2019re late. That we\u2019re not doing enough.<\/p>\n And then we post something too. A coffee. A car ride. A quote. A close-up of our face with no explanation. We post as if to say, I\u2019m here too. I\u2019m doing fine. Look at me, don\u2019t forget about me.<\/em><\/p>\n But\u2026 who really cares?<\/p>\n I posted the meal I ate five hours ago. Who cares? I think we all know the answer.<\/p>\n Not really anyone. Not in the way we secretly hope for.<\/p>\n Maybe five people reacted. Maybe one friend replied. But the moment is gone. They double tapped, they sent a heart emoji, and then they moved on with their life.<\/p>\n So why do we post at all?<\/p>\n I think part of it is about not wanting to be forgotten. Not by others, but by ourselves.<\/p>\n Like Emma Chamberlain once said, \u201cWhy do we feel the need to take photos and videos of everything?\u201d<\/em> It’s the fear of losing the feeling.<\/p>\n We don\u2019t just post to be seen. We post to remember.<\/em> To keep proof that we existed, that we felt something that day. That we were alive and doing things and being someone.<\/em><\/p>\n But it\u2019s a strange loop. We try to hold on to the moment by recording it, and in doing that, we sort of miss it. We see concerts through our camera screen. We smile for pictures we don\u2019t even feel like taking. We try to capture the \u201cgood life\u201d instead of living it.<\/p>\n And what\u2019s worse is that it\u2019s never enough. One post turns into ten. One reaction isn\u2019t satisfying. We keep coming back for more, more views, more validation, more dopamine.<\/p>\n Meanwhile, real happiness? It becomes harder to reach. Reality starts to feel dull. Moments without photos feel like they didn\u2019t happen. And somehow, nothing feels as special unless we can prove it happened online.<\/p>\n Our generation is slowly losing touch with joy that isn\u2019t posted.<\/p>\n And I say our generation<\/em> but really\u2026 I mean me too. I\u2019m not above it. I catch myself in it all the time. Taking a photo and then spending 15 minutes deciding if it\u2019s worth posting. Rewatching my own story to see if it looks cool enough. Feeling bad if no one replies to something that felt meaningful to me.<\/p>\n It\u2019s such a lonely place to be, connected to thousands, but not really seen<\/em> by anyone.<\/p>\n We talk about FOMO like it\u2019s only about missing events or plans. But there\u2019s also the fear of missing memories.<\/em> Or missing proof<\/em> of our life moving forward.<\/p>\n I\u2019m scared of forgetting who I was. Of not being able to look back and say, \u201cThat\u2019s when I was really happy,\u201d or \u201cThat\u2019s when I was trying to get better.\u201d And sometimes it feels like if I don\u2019t post it\u2026 maybe it didn\u2019t really happen.<\/p>\n But then I remember the things I never posted. Like the time I made chai for my mom and we talked for an hour. Or the walk I took last winter when the sky looked like a painting. Or the song I listened to that made me cry but also made me feel so warm. Those moments mattered too. And no one saw them. And maybe that\u2019s what made them real.<\/em><\/p>\n I don\u2019t have a clean ending to this post. Because I\u2019m still figuring it out. I still post things that don\u2019t matter. I still get caught up. I still compare, still scroll, still seek validation from people who wouldn\u2019t even notice if I disappeared from their feed.<\/p>\n But maybe being aware of it\u2026 is a start.<\/p>\n Maybe next time I go to post something, I\u2019ll ask myself why. Because not everything has to be seen to be real. Lots of love, Aashi<3<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It\u2019s a weird feeling, the feeling of missing out. And I don’t mean missing out on a party or a dinner or a beach day. 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We post what we want others to think<\/em> is going on.<\/p>\n
I posted a video of me laughing on FaceTime. Who cares?
I posted a crying selfie, hoping someone would ask if I\u2019m okay. Who really cares?<\/p>\n
And I think she\u2019s right when she says it\u2019s the fear of losing a memory.<\/p>\n
Maybe I\u2019ll pause before I turn a moment into content.
Maybe I\u2019ll stop chasing proof, and start collecting presence.<\/p>\n
And not everyone has to care, for me<\/em> to care.<\/p>\n