I Deleted All My Social Accounts — Yet I Felt More Alone Than Ever

I used to think silence was an error—until I sat alone at 3 a.m., watching the blue glow of my screen like a ghost haunting a digital temple.

I’m not depressed. I’m observant.

The last time I posted was during Lunar New Year in San Francisco—my mother’s teahouse lit with red lanterns, but no one came to celebrate. My father said, ‘Luck isn’t earned—it’s remembered.’ So I deleted everything: Instagram, Twitter, TikTok—the whole ecosystem of performance.

No more metrics. No more streaks. No more ‘engagement’ as currency.

What remained? The quiet.

In that silence, I began sketching again—not with brushes, but with code. Unity scenes bloomed like ancestral rituals; After Effects became my incense; AI-generated visuals whispered back what words had been buried under algorithmic noise.

I didn’t seek community—I built it.

One night, a stranger messaged me: ‘You’re gone?’

I replied: ‘No—I’m just finally visible.’

We don’t need to be seen by crowds. We need to see ourselves—fully, without applause, in the dark, in the glow, in the stillness between frames.

This isn’t about winning or losing at life’s roulette table. It’s about knowing when the ox bows—not for luck—but because it remembers you.