The Great Unplugging

Once upon a time, in the early days of the internet, there was Orkut—a quaint little platform where people shared their lives, dreams, and ideas freely. It was a simple space where the digital world felt innocent, almost magical. Little did we know, it was the spark of something much larger.

Then came Facebook, a platform that connected everyone, everywhere. At first, it felt like a miracle. Long-lost friends reunited, families across oceans stayed close, and we built digital neighborhoods filled with likes, pokes, and shared memories. But as time went on, something shifted. Facebook and its rivals—Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat—weren’t just connecting us anymore. They were competing for our attention, for every second we could give. Social media became a stage, and we became performers, carefully curating our lives to fit the scripts of likes and trends.

YouTube added to this evolution, becoming the ultimate stage for creators. From makeup tutorials to educational content, it was a place where anyone could share their talent. But only a lucky few rose to the top. Millions of us uploaded videos, hoping to “make it,” but the algorithms weren’t built for all of us to succeed. Most of us watched from the sidelines, consuming endlessly, while a small fraction became the stars of this new economy.

By the mid-2010s, social media had grown into a digital empire. Twitter was the battlefield for opinions, Instagram the temple of beauty, and TikTok the playful, chaotic playground where trends came and went in the blink of an eye. But for all its vibrancy, cracks began to show. The pressure to succeed as a creator crushed many. Mental health issues soared as people compared their lives to the polished images on their feeds. Worse, we became more connected to our screens than to each other.

For years, we spiraled deeper into the digital haze. But humanity is resilient. And change, as always, came.

It began quietly. People started to feel the hollowness of it all—the endless scrolling, the performative interactions, the growing sense of isolation. Platforms like Discord and BeReal hinted at something different: smaller, more authentic communities where people could just be themselves. Slowly, the giants of social media lost their grip.

AI played an unexpected role in this shift. It stopped being a tool for manipulation and became a force for good. AI assistants helped us organize local gatherings, match interests, and build real-world connections. Virtual reality, once seen as an escape, reminded us of the beauty of reality itself. We began using technology to step outside, to meet face-to-face, and to rediscover the joy of human connection.

Workshops, dinners, and parks became the new “platforms.” People started hosting skill exchanges, community projects, and storytelling nights. Technology didn’t disappear, but it became quieter, more supportive—a tool rather than a tyrant. The focus wasn’t on going viral anymore; it was on creating moments that mattered.

And so, humanity found its way back. We learned to blend the best of technology with the irreplaceable richness of human interaction. Social media didn’t vanish, but it transformed into something healthier, something more human.

Looking back now, it’s hard to believe how far we’ve come. From the early days of Orkut to the chaos of algorithm-driven platforms, we’ve learned the hard way that life isn’t meant to be lived through a screen. It’s meant to be shared, in laughter, tears, and quiet conversations.

We reclaimed our humanity. And in doing so, we found something even greater: ourselves.