Let me start with something simple.
Most of us… are okay.
We wake up in the morning in a room that’s not perfect,
but it’s ours.
We drink coffee that’s not expensive,
but it warms our chest just right.
We go to a job that’s not glamorous,
but it pays for rice, electricity, and weekend groceries.
And we laugh, too.
With friends who understand our jokes.
With family who sends voice notes that make us roll our eyes but miss them anyway.
And in those moments,
we don’t feel lacking.
We don’t feel broken.
We just… live.
Until,
somewhere in the middle of the day,
we open our phones.
We tap that green icon.
We swipe through stories.
We scroll. And scroll. And scroll.
And suddenly—
we are no longer okay.
We are not rich enough.
Not good-looking enough.
Not loved enough.
Not successful enough.
Not far enough.
Not fast enough.
You see, it’s not our lives that change—
it’s our perspective.
Because nothing was ever a problem until we started comparing.
You were proud of your little house—
until you saw someone’s living room that looks like it came from Pinterest.
You felt good about your family vacation—
until you saw someone’s honeymoon in the Maldives with a drone shot and Coldplay music in the background.
You were grateful for your quiet relationship—
until you saw that proposal under the Eiffel Tower with perfect lighting and a long caption that ends with “a love I prayed for.”
And it starts small.
A sigh. A thought.
“Maybe I’m not doing enough.”
“Maybe I’m late.”
“Maybe my life isn’t special.”
Let me ask you something.
When did enough stop being enough?
When did we decide that meaning is less valuable than aesthetic?
When did a 6 a.m. sunrise with your daughter become less worthy
than someone else’s 6 a.m. gym selfie captioned with
“chasing goals, not people”?
When did we start trading real moments
for highlight reels we don’t even remember liking?
The problem is not social media.
It’s what happens when we forget what it’s for.
It was meant to connect us.
To share joy.
To celebrate milestones.
But somewhere along the way,
we let it decide what a “good life” looks like.
We let it tell us how to dress,
how to love,
how to age,
how to succeed.
And we forgot that the happiest people
aren’t always the ones with the most to show.
They’re the ones who are content in the quiet.
They’re the ones who laugh without posting.
They’re the ones who don’t measure their lives in views and likes,
but in warmth. In meaning. In presence.
In The Courage to Be Disliked, Ichiro Kishimi writes:
“The only person you need to be better than… is the person you were yesterday.”
Not the girl on Reels who wakes up in satin bedsheets.
Not the guy whose caption says “humble” but whose life screams sponsorship.
Not even your childhood friend who now speaks at international conferences.
Just… you.
Yesterday’s you.
That’s the only metric that matters.
And so, my friends—
Tonight, I’m not here to make you feel bad about your screen time.
I’m not here to say quit Instagram or delete TikTok.
I’m here to say this:
Protect your soul.
Guard your gaze.
Don’t let the internet make you forget your reality.
Your real life is not something you scroll past.
It’s the coffee you made this morning.
The meal you shared without taking a photo.
The chat you had with your mother that wasn’t aesthetic—but was everything.
You are not behind.
You are not boring.
You are not late.
You are living.
So the next time you scroll,
and you feel that familiar ache in your chest,
remember:
You were okay five minutes ago.
The problem is not your life.
The problem is forgetting how good it already is.
Take a break.
Go for a walk without music.
Call someone who doesn’t care how you look—only how you’re doing.
Write something just for you.
And slowly,
bit by bit,
you’ll remember:
Your life was never missing anything—until the world told you to start looking.
