double tap if you like this

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Lately I’ve been wondering…

When did we lose the spark of actually wanting to know one another?

Most of our connections live online now. Filtered, fragmented, half-formed. We “like” each other’s lives, toss out the occasional heart emoji, and consider that intimacy. And maybe, in some small way, it is.

I’m not here to moralize about screens or pine for a pre-Instagram utopia. I love the internet. I’ve built a life on it. My career, my friendships, even parts of my identity have been shaped by digital connection. But I also know how easy it is to disappear in a world that rewards constant presence. To scroll past a moment without really seeing it. To leave a message, something someone took the time and vulnerability to send, sitting unopened in your inbox. Ghosted.

The truth is, it takes effort to show up. Even online. It takes courage to post the thing, write the caption, send the message. To say, this is me today. And it takes equal energy to witness that. To pause. To let someone know they’ve been seen. Not as content, but as a person.

I don’t think we’re doomed. I think we’re overstimulated and undernourished in ways we don’t have language for yet. But the potential for connection *real connection* is still there.

It lives in the small, almost forgettable moments. In the message from a friend who sends memes at midnight because they know you’re awake. In the group chats that stretch across years and phases of life. With the one rando who drops a guaranteed heart-eyes emoji on every post.

Sure, there’s a performance to our digital lives, a kind of emotional shorthand. But sometimes, that shorthand is survival. A double-tap. A quick “you okay?” text. These are rituals of modern care. We’re human. We survive on connection. And in a world that no longer insists on eye contact, even the smallest gestures become sacred.

Maybe the answer isn’t logging off. Maybe it’s logging on with intention—remembering that behind every post or message is someone trying to feel understood, or simply hoping to know you better. As someone with a public presence both personally and professionally, I’ve shifted my perspective. I no longer see connection as a byproduct of being online, but as the point of it. If you’re here to know me, support me, or engage with my work, I want to offer you the same in return.

So go ahead. Double tap. Leave the comment. Send the note. Acknowledge someone’s presence, digital or otherwise. Because in a world where algorithms shape our relationships, recognition might just be the most radical act of all.