The Cult of “Mine”:
Why Love Feels Like Property
Why Love Feels Like Property
Remember when deleting Facebook was a personality trait? Now, quitting Instagram is practically a spiritual awakening.
But here’s the question: If you log off — who the hell are you?
We’ve all had the fantasy. You throw your phone into the ocean (or at least switch it to airplane mode and pretend you’re “unreachable”), move to a remote island, grow herbs, and rediscover your inner peace. But five minutes later you’re googling “Can oregano cure anxiety?” and checking who saw your last Story.
We live in the paradox of hyper-connectivity and total disconnection from ourselves. We scroll to feel less alone — and end up lonelier than ever. We share to express — and forget what we actually think. And if a hot take drops in the woods with no Wi-Fi, does it even go viral?
So let’s dig in. What actually happens when you break up with social media? Is it liberation — or just digital FOMO in Birkenstocks?
Now you’re not the creator, you're the content
Social media was supposed to connect us
Now it’s just a casino for your self-worth. We went from sharing vacation pics to building entire identities out of Stories, swipe-ups, and trauma-dumping threads. Every platform promises “authenticity” while quietly handing you a filter and a panic disorder.And the irony? The more we share, the less seen we actually feel. You're not bonding — you're broadcasting. And praying the algorithm doesn’t ghost you.
Let’s call it what it is: digital cosplay. You’re not living your life — you’re performing it for strangers who wouldn’t recognize you in line at CVS. You refresh for likes like a lab monkey jonesing for pellets. You say it’s “for work,” “for inspiration,” “for fun,” but deep down you know: it’s for that tiny rush of “you exist.” And when it doesn’t come? Cue the existential hangover.
Here’s the bad news: our brains weren’t designed for TikTok.
The good news? Neither was society.
Social media didn’t invent our craving for attention — it just fed it steroids. Since the dawn of time, humans have wanted to be seen. Ancient Romans scratched graffiti into stone walls ("Marcus is hot", probably), and the 1800s gave us diary-writing and scandalous letters. But Facebook’s 2004 debut changed the stakes: self-expression became performance, and validation got a Like button.
Fast-forward: by 2023, the average person spent 2 hours and 31 minutes a day on social media (Statista). That’s 912 hours a year — or a full month of your life. Scrolling. Tapping. Reacting. Comparing.
And the impact is far from cute. A landmark 2018 study from the University of Pennsylvania found that reducing social media usage to 30 minutes a day significantly decreased symptoms of depression and loneliness.
(Shocking: less time comparing your life to influencer dogs = more happiness.)
So why is the urge to scroll still stronger than our will to live well? Because these platforms are literally engineered to keep us hooked — and walking away feels like amputating a limb. Or at least a personality.
The Psychology of Logging Off (and Why You Can’t Do It)
Let’s be real: social media isn’t just a tool. It’s a drug.
And you? You’re the lab rat.
Dopamine’s the main dealer here. Every like, comment, or DM triggers a tiny squirt of reward. According to Dr. Anna Lembke, psychiatrist and author of Dopamine Nation, this creates a loop: anticipation — reward — withdrawal — repeat. The more we scroll, the more we chase that next micro-hit of affirmation.
We curate, filter, and polish our profiles until they become avatars we can’t live up to IRL. Psychologist Sherry Turkle (author of Alone Together) argues that we’ve created a culture of “performance over presence.” We’re so busy crafting an online version of ourselves that the real one starts to feel like a side character.
And here’s the kicker: your brain knows it’s not real — but it still reacts like it is. Seeing a friend’s vacation photo triggers the same envy and inferiority complex as if you were watching it unfold live, champagne in hand.
Digital detox isn’t just about screen time. It’s about detoxing from our need to be witnessed 24/7. And that’s terrifying. Because what happens when nobody’s looking?
Are you still you if no one’s watching?
Social media rewired celebrity itself. You no longer need talent, training, or even a fully functioning frontal lobe to be famous. Just a ring light and a gimmick. Welcome to the Influencer Industrial Complex.
But even the rich and Insta-famous are burning out. Take Billie Eilish — in 2022, she publicly said she deleted all her social media apps because they made her miserable. Or Lorde, who compared Instagram to "a drug that doesn't get you high anymore."
And let’s not forget the 2020s’ most poetic moment: when Kanye (or Ye, or whoever he was that week) rage-quit Instagram… again. Even celebrities who benefit the most from the machine are choking on its fumes.
In pop culture, logging off has become the ultimate flex.
Frank Ocean deletes all his posts and vanishes for months. Beyoncé posts like a mythical creature. Lana Del Rey nuked her socials, then came back with blurry selfies and Bible quotes — an aesthetic detox to match the psychological one.
Digital absence is the new exclusivity.
Want to seem enlightened, deep, or uncancellable? Go dark.
Here’s what we know: Mental health is tanking. Social comparison is spiking. Attention spans are shorter than a TikTok dance trend.
In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General literally called youth social media use a public health issue. Gen Z — the most online generation — also reports the highest levels of anxiety, depression, and self-harm. You don’t need a Harvard degree to connect the dots (but here’s one anyway: Dr. Jean Twenge’s research shows a direct correlation between screen time and rising mental health issues).
But it’s not just about “the kids.” Adults are fried too.
We’ve turned our lives into content. Our friendships into comments. Our free time into feed time.
Worse, creativity is getting strangled. The pressure to perform kills play. The dopamine loop kills patience. When every idea must be instantly postable, nothing gets to marinate.
We’re living in the age of aesthetic burnout.
And no, a cute “digital detox weekend” isn’t enough.
So What Do We Do? Look, we’re not saying go live in a cave and churn butter.
I’m saying maybe… stop giving your soul to Silicon Valley’s dopamine machine?
Here are your options:
The world doesn’t need another curated personality.
It needs the real you — glitchy, quiet, unfiltered.
Now go log off. Or don’t.
But if you’re still reading this on Instagram — yeah, this one’s for you.
The good news? Neither was society.
Social media didn’t invent our craving for attention — it just fed it steroids. Since the dawn of time, humans have wanted to be seen. Ancient Romans scratched graffiti into stone walls ("Marcus is hot", probably), and the 1800s gave us diary-writing and scandalous letters. But Facebook’s 2004 debut changed the stakes: self-expression became performance, and validation got a Like button.
Fast-forward: by 2023, the average person spent 2 hours and 31 minutes a day on social media (Statista). That’s 912 hours a year — or a full month of your life. Scrolling. Tapping. Reacting. Comparing.
And the impact is far from cute. A landmark 2018 study from the University of Pennsylvania found that reducing social media usage to 30 minutes a day significantly decreased symptoms of depression and loneliness.
(Shocking: less time comparing your life to influencer dogs = more happiness.)
So why is the urge to scroll still stronger than our will to live well? Because these platforms are literally engineered to keep us hooked — and walking away feels like amputating a limb. Or at least a personality.
The Psychology of Logging Off (and Why You Can’t Do It)
Let’s be real: social media isn’t just a tool. It’s a drug.
And you? You’re the lab rat.
Dopamine’s the main dealer here. Every like, comment, or DM triggers a tiny squirt of reward. According to Dr. Anna Lembke, psychiatrist and author of Dopamine Nation, this creates a loop: anticipation — reward — withdrawal — repeat. The more we scroll, the more we chase that next micro-hit of affirmation.
We curate, filter, and polish our profiles until they become avatars we can’t live up to IRL. Psychologist Sherry Turkle (author of Alone Together) argues that we’ve created a culture of “performance over presence.” We’re so busy crafting an online version of ourselves that the real one starts to feel like a side character.
And here’s the kicker: your brain knows it’s not real — but it still reacts like it is. Seeing a friend’s vacation photo triggers the same envy and inferiority complex as if you were watching it unfold live, champagne in hand.
Digital detox isn’t just about screen time. It’s about detoxing from our need to be witnessed 24/7. And that’s terrifying. Because what happens when nobody’s looking?
Are you still you if no one’s watching?
Social media rewired celebrity itself. You no longer need talent, training, or even a fully functioning frontal lobe to be famous. Just a ring light and a gimmick. Welcome to the Influencer Industrial Complex.
But even the rich and Insta-famous are burning out. Take Billie Eilish — in 2022, she publicly said she deleted all her social media apps because they made her miserable. Or Lorde, who compared Instagram to "a drug that doesn't get you high anymore."
And let’s not forget the 2020s’ most poetic moment: when Kanye (or Ye, or whoever he was that week) rage-quit Instagram… again. Even celebrities who benefit the most from the machine are choking on its fumes.
In pop culture, logging off has become the ultimate flex.
Frank Ocean deletes all his posts and vanishes for months. Beyoncé posts like a mythical creature. Lana Del Rey nuked her socials, then came back with blurry selfies and Bible quotes — an aesthetic detox to match the psychological one.
Digital absence is the new exclusivity.
Want to seem enlightened, deep, or uncancellable? Go dark.
Here’s what we know: Mental health is tanking. Social comparison is spiking. Attention spans are shorter than a TikTok dance trend.
In 2023, the U.S. Surgeon General literally called youth social media use a public health issue. Gen Z — the most online generation — also reports the highest levels of anxiety, depression, and self-harm. You don’t need a Harvard degree to connect the dots (but here’s one anyway: Dr. Jean Twenge’s research shows a direct correlation between screen time and rising mental health issues).
But it’s not just about “the kids.” Adults are fried too.
We’ve turned our lives into content. Our friendships into comments. Our free time into feed time.
Worse, creativity is getting strangled. The pressure to perform kills play. The dopamine loop kills patience. When every idea must be instantly postable, nothing gets to marinate.
We’re living in the age of aesthetic burnout.
And no, a cute “digital detox weekend” isn’t enough.
So What Do We Do? Look, we’re not saying go live in a cave and churn butter.
I’m saying maybe… stop giving your soul to Silicon Valley’s dopamine machine?
Here are your options:
- Delete the apps. Or at least make it harder to reach them than your taxes. Log out, hide them, or — radical idea — replace them with books. Yes. Those weird non-scrollable things.
- Practice being boring. You don’t need to document every sunset or smoothie. Let life happen without the pressure to package it.
- Ask yourself: Who am I when no one’s watching. If that question terrifies you — good. Sit with it. That’s where the magic is.
The world doesn’t need another curated personality.
It needs the real you — glitchy, quiet, unfiltered.
Now go log off. Or don’t.
But if you’re still reading this on Instagram — yeah, this one’s for you.
