Log Off, You’re Not a Fucking Algorithm.

I'm sick to death of this social media circus.

Sick of watching kids spiral into depression because their picture didn't get enough likes.

Sick of grown adults having identity crises over an unfollow.

Sick of seeing people tie their entire self-worth to comments, filters, and fucking engagement stats.

We've built a world where a selfie has more value than a conversation.

Where dopamine comes from double taps.

Where self-esteem is built on validation from strangers you wouldn't lend a fiver to in real life.

You think that's normal?

You think that's sustainable?

Let me say this as clearly as I can…

You weren't built to be liked.

You were built to live.

You are not a fucking algorithm.

Likes Don't Equal Love.

Likes don't mean shit.

They may look like little a thumbs-up or hearts, but they're not love. They're not truth.

They're not real.

They're pixels and patterns engineered to keep you scrolling, comparing, and coming back for more.

You post a photo, it gets 3 likes, and suddenly you're questioning your whole existence.

You start thinking -

"Maybe I'm not attractive."

"Maybe no one cares."

"Maybe I'm just boring."

"Maybe I should delete it."

What the actual fuck are we doing?!

A generation raised on participation trophies is now being emotionally waterboarded by a machine that only rewards perceived perfection.

You're chasing high scores on a fake scoreboard.

And every time you lose, you blame yourself, not the game.

The Highlight Reel Is a Lie.

Social media isn't real life.

It's a highlight reel of everyone's best moments, edited to look like a lifestyle.

It's the airbrushed, filtered, curated version of someone else's fake-ass fairy tale.

You're comparing your behind-the-scenes chaos to someone else's staged performance.

That #couplegoals post?

They were screaming at each other an hour later.

That ripped gym bro?

Filtered to fuck, and juiced to the gills.

That happy entrepreneur?

Maxed-out credit cards and a panic disorder.

You're losing sleep over people lying for likes.

You're questioning your own life because someone else nailed their lighting setup.

Social media is a magic trick.

And you're letting the smoke and mirrors tell you how to feel about yourself?

Wake the fuck up.

Digital Validation Is a Drug.

Let's call it what it is - addiction.

Social media works like a casino - random rewards and intermittent dopamine hits.

Just enough attention to keep you hooked and hungry.

This isn't a weakness - it's a setup.

Your brain's been manipulated by something designed to exploit it.

But here's the scary part...

Unlike other addictions, this one is socially accepted.

Encouraged even.

Post more.

Share more.

Hustle harder.

Build your brand.

Grow your audience.

Fuck.

All.

Of.

That…

You're not a brand.

You're not a product.

You're not a fucking algorithm in sneakers.

You're a human.

Not a product.

Not a profile.

Not a follower count.

Not a piece of content.

Just a messy, raw, breathing human.

And you deserve to live like one.

Live Where Your Feet Are.

You want peace?

Freedom?

Confidence?

Get the fuck offline.

Log off.

Shut down.

Reboot your reality.

Live where your feet are, not in your followers list.

Not inside a comment section.

Not in an 'insight dashboard'.

Look people in the eyes, not their avatars.

Make memories, not content.

Go outside and do something beautiful without filming it.

Eat a meal without showing your plate to the world.

Have a moment, just for yourself.

No hashtags.

No filters.

No "tap to reveal more."

Just you.

Just… life.

And you'll be shocked at how rich it feels when it isn't flattened into an IG story.

The Ducks and the Tiger.

It took me 33 years to really learn this lesson.

Then it hit me like a fucking bus.

I was newly married, running on fumes, trying to keep a struggling tech business from flatlining.

I was living off perception - grinding hard, posting the hustle, desperate to look like I had my shit together.

One day, I took my 3-year-old daughter out for a walk so my wife could rest.

Nothing dramatic.

Just a quiet stroll.

We found a bench by a pond.

There were ducks.

We sat.

Fed them.

Read 'The Tiger Who Came to Tea' - her favourite.

No camera.

No post.

No audience.

Just me, her, the ducks… and the tiger.

In that silence, that completely unshared, unfiltered, unbranded moment - I thought, "Fuck me. I'm lucky."

Not because I had anything fancy.

But because I was fully present.

Alive in a moment that didn't need validation to be real.

That moment changed me.

Your Worth Isn't Measured in Metrics.

If you died tomorrow, Instagram wouldn't mourn you.

TikTok wouldn't flinch.

Facebook wouldn't blink.

But your people would.

The ones who've heard your real laugh.

The ones who've seen you cry without a filter.

The ones who don't need a like button to show love.

That's where your value lives - not in impressions, but in impact.

Not in how many watched, but in who remembers.

Step Outside the Screen.

One day, when you're old and wrinkled, you won't give a flying shit how many people double-tapped your sunset pic.

You won't reminisce about your follower count.

You won't whisper analytics on your deathbed.

You'll care about the real stuff.

The laughs.

The bruises.

The love you felt without needing to post about it.

The adventures that didn't make it to your story, but etched themselves into your soul.

The real shit.

The shit that stayed.

So here's the move...

Step outside the screen.

And live like your battery's already dead.

Put your phone down.

Pick your life up.

And remember you're not here to be consumed.

You're here to be alive.