All it takes is one trending post to feel seen. We want everything to be about us, we want to be seen, we want to be adored; most of all, we want to be noticed. Society has become a world of self-branding and self-exploitation. If you didn’t post that story about that “cute af” morning coffee date you did with your girlfriends, then how would anyone know you did it? How will anyone know that you're cool, that you do fun things? How will anyone know you deserve to be noticed, that your life is interesting enough for people to watch? Social media has become society’s weapon, placing overbearing pressure on people to follow and perform (whether they realise it or not). If the world hasn’t seen it, it didn’t happen, and that is the domino effect of unhealthy habits.
Everybody needs to be seen. Everybody needs to be validated. Everybody feels this overwhelming urge to be noticed online. We need to throw every aspect of our lives out into the void of the internet just to feel recognised - to feel real. We find ourselves compelled to share every detail, seeking that dopamine rush from hearts and comments on a screen. Social media hasn’t just changed how we connect; it’s reprogrammed how we value real life. If an event isn’t documented and posted, it almost feels like it never happened at all. Our lives have turned into public performances - curated, polished, filtered. Crafted to attract likes, comments, and various forms of validation. A world where we cherished personal experiences has now become one where we monetize them, not for meaning, but for metrics. Everyone’s captions now echo the phrase, “Pic’s or it didn’t happen” summing up this shift in mindset without us even noticing it. Long before filters and front-facing cameras, people found validation through face-to-face interactions. From the praise of parents and teachers, to the comfort of being seen by your community, belonging was earned through connections. Psychologists call this “external validation”, a need as old as society itself. As Dr. Dave Cornell explains, external validation involves “basing one’s value as a person on the standards of others, such as family and friends, coworkers, and societal norms”. Today, however, societal approval is found on platforms like Instagram that thrive on the artful curation of images to idealize and frequently exaggerate our lives. This distortion of reality has a cost. It fuels anxiety, especially among younger users who spiral when their posts don’t perform well enough. They start to measure their worth in likes, in follows, in fleeting attention. The hunger to be seen, even just a little, becomes a full-time obsession. The result is a culture where we’re always performing, where authenticity takes a back seat to applause. And while the pressure builds, influencers rise from that pressure like perfectly-poised sirens. But who cares about authentic, well-lived experiences when you can have your personal worth measured by online interactions from total strangers.
Of course if you want to get anywhere in today's digital landscape, a few measly likes won’t cut it. You need to be an influencer - a key player in an economy driven by the relentless pursuit of attention. These aren’t just people; they’re brands. Personal branding has become profit. One post. One sponsorship. One flight to a resort with a ring light and a drone. Since 2010, when Instagram launched, brands have shifted from celebrity endorsements to carefully curated “everyday” users. Now it’s a billion-dollar industry. Most influencers aren’t experts - they’re just good at being looked at. They succeed through the art of captivating their audience. Even social media researcher, Brooke Erin Duffy, explains, “We’ve created a world where being watched is a form of currency”. It’s no longer about what you offer, but how well you can sell the illusion. This dynamic not only encourages shallow interactions but also creates pressure to present a socially accepted version of oneself, which can undermine real relationships and ruin the significance of honest communication. Take influencer trips: brands flying creators to tropical beaches, staging photo ops, crafting faux-candid moments with perfect lighting. These aren’t vacations, they’re advertisements disguised as lifestyle. Unique experiences reduced to content feeder. Everything becomes a performance, even relaxation. And what’s the cost? The more we perform, the less we connect. We become characters in our own lives, rewriting reality just to be relevant. Even our most vulnerable moments, heartbreaks, breakdowns, family dinners, become marketable. But who cares when a sunset photo can get you flown to the Maldives with a $5k gift bag full of designer skincare.
The urge to overshare, to constantly broadcast, has eroded the walls between personal and public. Our feeds are flooded with morning routines, crying selfies, day in my life vlogs. A 2022 Pew study revealed that over 80% of teens feel pressured to post in a way that pleases others, even if it means pretending. That’s not a connection. That’s marketing. We swap real conversations for curated clips, vulnerability for visibility, honesty for aesthetic. Ironically, in being “more connected than ever”, we’ve never been more alone. To reclaim our relationships, we must learn to protect parts of our lives from the feed. We need to live moments that aren’t meant to be posted. But who cares about that when a single reel might go viral?
In this world obsessed with visibility, we’ve lost something essential: the ability to live for ourselves. We no longer favour moments for what they are, instead we document them for how they’ll appear. What began as a genuine desire for connection became curation. Now we’ve become brands instead of people. We perform, pretend, and package up our lives for approval. Influencers aren’t building relationships; they’re executing marketing strategies. And the rest of us? We’re watching, imitating, and buying into the illusion. Even the most intimate aspects of life have been drawn into this performance. Love is captioned. Grief is uploaded. Laughter is background noise to a Tik Tok. Real life fades, pixel by pixel, fading slowly beneath a glossy surface of digital perfection. And our reward? Applause from strangers and validation from algorithms, or loneliness wrapped in 15 seconds of fame. We traded irreplaceable, real, messy, beautiful, human connection, for fleeting connection. Now we are left scrolling through feeds of each other’s lives, desperately trying to feel something real.
(I don't normally like doing informational opinion pieces but I liked this one) xoxo, ladybug
