I Deleted All My Social Accounts—Yet I Feared Loneliness More Than Any Game

I used to think success was measured in likes, shares, and streaks—until one midnight in my Manhattan apartment, the screen’s blue light reflected back at me like a ghost from a temple I never visited.

I grew up between two worlds: the golden lanterns of my parents’ small tea house in San Francisco, where silence was sacred; and the algorithmic chaos of digital platforms that turned human connection into performance art. In one world, fortune was bought with every scroll. In the other, it was breathed.

I stopped chasing trends—not because I failed, but because I finally understood: you don’t need to be seen to be real. The Funi Feast? It wasn’t a game. It was a ritual masquerade—a performance where your worth is determined by how much you dare to feel alone.

I no longer track庄闲 results or chase 赔率 bonuses. Instead, I watch the rhythm of my own breath—the way steam rises on glass at 3 AM—and remember: even in silence, you are not empty. You are becoming.

The most dangerous bet isn’t losing—it’s pretending you’re whole when you’re just trying to fill a void with noise.

If you’ve ever sat alone at 3 AM wondering if anyone sees you… welcome back.

You don’t need an account to belong.