
I was on the train.
No seat was available, so I found a safe place to stand—one with something to hold on to. You never know, right?
It was early morning. The train was full.
Bodies swayed gently with the rhythm of the tracks. But what caught my attention wasn’t the motion of the train—it was the motion of fingers.
Click. Click. Click.
Eyes down. Fingers dancing.
99.99% of the people around me were glued to their phones.
Some typing furiously.
Some scrolling endlessly.
Some watching.
Some liking.
Click. Click. Click.
A friend posted a photo from their trip to Monaco—like.
Another friend shared a tribute to their partner—like.
A relative posted their child’s birthday celebration—another like.
And in that moment, it hit me:
We wake up and plug into this alternate reality before we’ve even opened ourselves to our own lives.
We tap. We like. We scroll.
We feed the algorithm with our attention,
and starve our souls of presence.
That was the day something cracked open in me.
I saw it.
I couldn’t unsee it.
Since then, I’ve stepped back.
I left social media—mostly.
I rarely visit Facebook. I go on Instagram only from time to time. I’m still unlearning the urge to tap, to scroll, to live life one like at a time…
But I’m getting there. I want to feel the moments, not perform them.
I want to live inside my life—not through the screen of someone else’s.
Because real life… doesn’t need a filter.
It just needs presence.
💭 Journaling Prompts for Reflection
- When do I reach for my phone out of habit, not intention?
- What emotions do I notice after scrolling on social media for a while? What do they tell me?
- Whose life do I consume the most online—and why?
- How might I reconnect with my own reality in the morning before I check my phone?
- What would it look like to pause before I like, scroll, or post?
- Am I willing to create more silence and presence in my day—even just for five minutes?
🪞Final Thought:
Let’s not live our lives in the blur of clicks.
Let’s wake up.
Let’s look up.
Let’s be here.
Salima
Just me thinking out loud over here