Seen

It’s such a strange feeling ... posting something and watching it drift into the void.

A thought, a joke, a story, a video that made you laugh... and then nothing.
Not even a “seen.”
Just silence.

You wait a few minutes.
Refresh the chat.
Someone else posts right after you.
They get the replies. The emojis. The validation.

And you? You just sit there quietly ... smiling at the screen like it didn’t matter.

But it did.

Not in a dramatic, “why doesn’t anyone love me?” kind of way.
More like that awkward moment at a dinner party where you say something and no one hears it... and then someone else says the same thing louder, and everyone laughs.

It’s not rage. It’s not grief.
It’s just... yuck.
That quiet ache of being skipped over.

I’ve come to realize I do something sneaky in those moments. I make excuses for other people ... not because they asked for them, but because I need to soften the rejection.

They’ve probably seen it before.
They’ll say something later.
Maybe the algorithm hid it.
Maybe it wasn’t that funny anyway...

We get so good at softening our own disappointment.
We rationalize silence like it's a grown-up skill.

And here’s the wild part ... there’s actually a name for this now.

Phubbing.
It’s when someone prioritizes their phone or digital space over the people right in front of them. The term came out of a Baylor University study, and get this ... researchers found that being digitally ignored lights up the same part of the brain as physical pain. Like stubbing your toe. Or worse... rejection.

So yeah. That tiny moment when the chat skips you?
Your brain doesn’t see it as “no big deal.”
It sees it as an emotional paper cut.
One you pretend not to notice while it quietly stings all day.

Sometimes someone does circle back. You run into them face-to-face and they say, “Oh man, that video you posted had me dying.” And it’s... nice. I mean, it’s better than nothing. But it’s also weird ... like, why didn’t you just say that when I needed it? Why did it have to wait for a hallway comment or a meeting side note?

Social media has turned connection into performance ... and the group chat into a greenroom where everyone’s waiting for applause that may or may not come.
We weren’t built for this level of almost-connection.

I mean, let’s be honest…
We’re drowning in connection, but starving for acknowledgment.

And there’s more. There’s a term called ambient awareness — the illusion that you’re involved in someone’s life just because you see their updates. Like knowing what they ate or how their vacation went makes you “close.” It doesn’t. It just means you’re familiar with their highlight reel.

I’ve been guilty of it too.
I scroll past people I care about.
I think, I’ll reply later.
Sometimes I do. Usually I don’t.

And when someone calls me out ... “Hey, you never responded…” ... that’s when it lands:
I’m someone’s silence too.

It’s not personal.
But it feels personal.
That’s the trap.

There’s a weird pressure now to always be “on” in the digital world.
If you don’t react fast enough, you miss the moment.
If you react too fast, you seem desperate.
If you say nothing, you’re invisible.
And if you say too much, you’re annoying.

So I’ve adjusted. I post differently now.
Less for the interaction, more for the record.
Less “notice me,” more “this is me.”

Still, every now and then, I put something out there ... a joke, a vulnerable thought, a weird observation ... and I wait.
Not for likes.
Not for praise.
Just for someone to see it.
To acknowledge it.
To acknowledge me.

That’s it.

I know I sound like a whiny baby right now...
And maybe I am. That’s called being alive.
I won’t apologize for it.

You’re reading this post because maybe ... just maybe ... deep down inside, you might feel the same way.

And that’s okay.
As long as you’re not a jerk about it.

It’s like being at a dinner party.
You don’t need everyone to sit with you all night.
But someone passing by… giving a nod… a quick handshake…
“Hey, I saw you earlier.”
That matters.

I’m not your issue. Never was. Never will be.
But saying hi once? That’s basic. That’s human.

Just a little acknowledgment.
It doesn’t have to be loud.
It just has to be real.

And maybe in this over-connected world…
That’s the kind of connection we’re starving for.
Basic, and sometimes ... everything.