It’s 2 AM, and I’ve hit the bottom of an Instagram Reel rabbit hole. I’ve learned the skincare routine of a random girl in Korea, watched a couple break up via Instagram story, and mentally committed to becoming a minimalist (again). I turn my phone off, roll over and think about how many things on my checklist today that I put off. We’ve all been there. The internet is more than just a tool now—it’s an escape, and a form of community, for better or worse. But somewhere between doomscrolling and digital “connection,” we stopped noticing how chronically online we’ve become. And maybe, just maybe, we’re a little too comfortable with it.
Being online is no longer a “something to do”—it’s becoming a part of who we are. Our lives are broken down into Stories and posts, likes and retweets. Group chats replace hangouts, TikToks replace TV shows, and FaceTime replaces face-to-face conversations. And when we aren’t scrolling? We’re thinking in tweets and photo captions. We laugh about being “chronically online” like it’s a personality trait, but if you stop and think about it: when was the last time you did something just for yourself—not for the story, the post, or the aesthetic?
Many Gen Z individuals follow creators as if we know them. We watch their daily lives, buy their Amazon lists, and defend them in comment sections like we’re getting paid to. But the truth is, these relationships aren’t real—they’re parasocial. One-sided. Built on illusions of closeness. It’s not that these creators are doing anything wrong. It’s that we’ve blurred the line between influence and intimacy. When your sense of connection comes more from strangers online than your circle, it might be time to check in with yourself.
Scientifically, behind every scroll: a dopamine hit, and then a crash. We feel drained, but can’t help to keep scrolling. Many students feel lonely, but can’t stop comparing. Though it seems relaxing to lay in bed and scroll, somehow it’s more anxiety-inducing than ever. Digital burnout isn’t just being exhausted, but it’s more of being so plugged in, that you’re checked out. It’s the passive way we scroll past the world and lose ourselves in the noise.
I’m not telling you to delete all forms of social media, and turn into a flip phone girl. But maybe we need to ask: what are we looking for online that we’re not getting in real life? Connection? Validation? Distraction? It’s okay to want those things. But it’s also okay to log off, take a walk, or sit with your own thoughts without background noise. There’s a difference between alone time and sitting alone with yourself.
Ultimately, the goal isn’t to coerce yourself offline, but to rewrite your relationship with the infinite information that encompasses your smartphone.