Do you ever scroll through your feed and see a clip of a wildfire, then a cat’s Halloween costume, someone crying over a breakup and then an ad for a lip plumper, all in the span of thirty seconds?
It is like our attention is being tugged in every direction at once. It is divided until no content really lands how it was intended. We do not even react anymore; we just keep scrolling. This response is not because we lack the care, but because we are being asked to care about too much, constantly. Our brains do the only thing they can to survive the overload: they start to tune out the emotions. That is where apathy starts, not as a choice, but as exhaustion.
Attention as a Weapon
The apps we use are not neutral; they are designed to compete for our attention. These apps use algorithms that are designed to reward whatever keeps us watching. They constantly monitor what you are most likely to continue watching. Every post, headline and video fights for your attention through exaggerated intensity, shock or an emotional pull. This curates a feed where everything is urgent, dramatic or attention-grabbing to the point where continuous shock becomes monotonous. This offers us a heavy bout of emotional stimulation all at once.
This is where the problem starts. When everything is framed as urgent and emotionally resonant, nothing actually feels that way. A raging wildfire decimating thousands of acres has to fight for your awareness with a new Dior lip product review. A single story can be picked up by several news outlets, and each one reshapes it into whatever their algorithm predicts will grab the most attention. The focus drifts away from what actually happened and becomes whichever version is most clickable.
When one event gets pulled in so many different directions, it is easy for people to tune out everything. The back-and-forth mix of facts and feelings in these stories is not just confusing; it is intense, repetitive and exhausting, especially when you are trying to figure out what really happened. This overexposure to emotional extremes leads to fatigue. When everything demands attention, attention loses its value.
Adaptation of Emotion
The brain cannot handle constant emotional spikes caused by the overwhelming amount of content we consume. To protect itself, the brain creates a buffer by reducing emotional sensitivity. At first, this feels like nothing more than your mind trying to keep up. However, it slowly turns into something else, and you start feeling like you simply do not care. Without realizing it, you may have slipped into a state of emotional exhaustion and desensitization. Desensitization becomes the norm and happens over time without choice. Apathy becomes the path of least resistance.
Aesthetics to the Unbothered
Not caring has become an aesthetic. Straight faces, monotone responses and the constant pressure to appear unbothered are everywhere. Online, that attitude receives praise. If you care too much, you are labeled as dramatic. If you show excitement, you are told that you are doing too much. Imagine telling someone that you got a good grade on a quiz they kept joking about, one you studied for all week. Instead of sharing the moment with you, they just shrug like this result was inevitable. It leaves you wishing you had kept your excitement to yourself, like your excitement was disproportionate or your achievement too small to matter. Because of this feedback loop, we learn to hold ourselves back, to flatten our reactions and to look controlled, composed and unbothered.
This is a form of protection: if nothing reaches you, nothing can unsettle you.
At the Expense of Feeling
When numbness becomes routine, it subtly changes the way you engage with the world. The things that once held your attention begin to fade into the background, replaced by a constant need for something new to capture your focus. It becomes harder to stay present, as everyday moments feel less stimulating.
Over time, this dulls your outlook, not necessarily in a bleak way, but in a detached way where even meaningful experiences are not as vibrant as they once felt. You start to crave novelty over depth, scrolling for stimulation instead of satisfaction, and before long, stillness begins to become uncomfortable.
A Deliberate Heart
Having a deliberate heart does not mean rejecting technology or pretending indifference does not exist. It is about learning to notice again, to slow down long enough to actually feel invested in something, even if it is small. It is choosing to engage with moments on purpose, not just consuming them in passing.
Maybe it involves rediscovering meaning in the ordinary, or realizing that attention itself is a form of care. Either way, cultivating a deliberate heart is a quiet return to being present in a world that too easily drifts by.