My 9-5 is social media. Social media is the only way for me to promote my newsletter. I follow countless people I respect across different platforms and find their perspectives to be invaluable; I get insights and bits of knowledge that I would never come across through conventional media sources. And yet, I’m burnt out. I feel a tiredness so deep when I think too much about social media that it surprises even me. But I have no choice. I have to keep clocking into my shifts producing content.
In truth work isn’t the source of my exhaustion. It’s the personal interactions, or the lack thereof, that make me feel done, feel more drained than I ever expected. It’s the inability to share my thoughts without seeing countless bad-faith critiques, even from people who fundamentally agree with what I’m saying. It’s the shallowness, the hollowness, the desire to score imaginary points placed above solidarity or building something or even constructive criticism. It’s the endless encounters with raw and misplaced anger with nowhere to channel it. It’s the fury and frustration shot out into the void, or directed at would-be friends. The next day brings more of the same.
I don’t think social media is or could ever be a cure-all, not even close. But I think it could be better, so much better. Much of the problem is, of course, that the dominant platforms are owned by corporations who want to squeeze us for profit. They want us addicted, they want us dunking on each other if it produces more interaction, they don’t care if our scrolling is filled with doom and dread. At least once a week I think of the Facebook executive who didn’t let his own kids use the platform.
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