What I Learned After Deleting All Social Media for a Month: No One Knows What I Eat Anymore

I was online until I became just a number

When I told my friends I was deleting all my social media for a month, one asked: “Are you joining a monastery or something?”
No, I just wanted to see what it’s like—to live without the endless feed, story reactions, and the daily dose of ‘compare your life to someone else’s fake one.’

Spoiler: it was hard, weird, and… surprisingly sobering.

Day 1: Phantom vibrations and craving attention

I checked my phone 78 times in the morning.
No notifications.
No likes.
No one commented “haha epic” on my gif from yesterday.
It felt like I was dead, but alive—just without reactions.

Day 4: You’re not content, you’re a person

The first thing that came to mind: “Who am I if no one taps ❤️ on my coffee?”
The answer was scary: I’m just a guy with coffee.
Without social media, you’re not an influencer, not an expert, not a lifestyle oracle.
You just exist. And that, damn it, is scarily normal.

Day 9: My mind—like Google without ads

My brain stopped running story scripts in the background.
I no longer thought about how to crop my breakfast to make it look “spontaneously aesthetic.”
And for the first time in a while… I actually ate. No filming, no lighting, no audience. Just ate.

Day 15: Missing the pointless scroll

I admit it: I missed it.
I missed dumb Reels, other people’s Maldives photos, and news I’d forget in three minutes.
Social media is like chewing gum for the brain. Bad for you, but tasty.
And without it, you’re either a philosopher or a psycho. I was somewhere in between.

Day 23: The world slowed down (in a good way)

People stopped being content.
I started listening again, instead of waiting for the chance to drop a joke in stories.
I saw a sunset. Not in someone’s blog. In real life.

Day 31: The return

I opened Telegram.
24 unread chats.
5 messages from people wanting to “send a meme.”
0 asking how I was doing.

Draw your own conclusions.

What I learned:

• Social media is a job without pay. You work as content so others can procrastinate.

• No one notices you’re gone. The world moves on. And you can, too.

• Real life happens when you’re not trying to record it.

Life isn’t a story. You can’t reshoot it. And no one will add music for you—unless you’re your own soundtrack.