Not for the Likes

It began with a grin.
A sun-kissed selfie taken at a precise angle with the caption, "Monday blues, but make it fashion."

In seven seconds, the first like was received. Then fifty. Next, 300.
She felt noticed. confirmed. Nearly... deserving.

But the girl who had hardly slept was hiding behind that flawless pout and meticulously manicured glow.
who wondered why she wasn't enough after spending hours looking through other people's highlight reels.
who, fearing that bloating would ruin her figure for the next bikini photo, hadn't eaten a full meal in two days.

This was no longer for amusement.
The purpose of this was not to connect.
This was not a creative exercise.

This was war, a battleground of approval on the internet.
Every post was a weapon, every post was like life support, and she was fighting.
--
These days, being visible is valuable.
where your value is frequently determined by the hearts on your picture, the number of people who view your reel, and the remarks you receive from strangers who will judge your smile, skin, and soul.

People advise you to "just be yourself."
But when the algorithm doesn't like you being yourself, how do you "be yourself"?

Raw cannot be sold.
Tears are not in style.
No one shares stretch marks.
Sponsorships don't come from authenticity.

--
She used to enjoy writing poetry.
Not for publicity.
Not for a crowd.
Only... for herself.

She now writes "aesthetic" content.
condenses suffering into paragraphs.
turns heartbreak into content that goes viral.

And every time she clicks "Post," a tiny voice inside of her asks, "Is this me now? or simply the version for which they applaud?"
--
Things weren’t always like this.

In the past, making eye contact was a sign of connection, and a friend’s embrace—rather than a stranger’s emoji—was the source of validation.

When there were starlights instead of ring lights at night.
When images served as memories rather than advertisements.

However, we have evolved.

Our lives are now branded.
Promote our sincerity.
Act joyfully.
Trauma to the market.

And it’s not for the likes that we do it.
We tell ourselves, anyway.

However, what is the reality?
We long for them.
Have a craving for them.
Feel empty in their absence.
--
She once spent hours staring at her phone.

No fresh likes.
Nothing to say.
No involvement.

She felt unnoticed.
“If no one sees me, do I even exist?” she asked herself.

She deleted all of the pictures that night.
Every single one of the meticulously crafted illusions.
She was too preoccupied with documenting those moments to truly experience them.

She took a seat in silence.
No alerts. Not a sound.
Only herself.

And it was a little… strange.
Uncomfortable.
But oddly tranquil, too.

She composed a poem that no one would ever read for the first time in years.
A reality too unvarnished for captions.
Too real a line to be repeated.

She grinned.
Not for the camera.
Not for the likes.
Only for herself.
--
because there is no trend in healing.
It's real, though.

Because you can be legitimate without going viral.

since your narrative isn't a hashtag.

because the public does not vote on your value.
--
Surely we are all guilty?

Everybody has filtered pain.
Joy was edited.
I didn’t post anything genuine, just what felt right.

We have sought praise from a crowd that isn’t even aware of our middle name.
We’ve confused affection with attention.
Followers for companions.

What if we simply stopped, though?

What if the art we produced was never appreciated?
Dancing without anyone observing in the dark?
Without tagging anyone, did you laugh?

What if we lived for life itself rather than for the likes?
--
📌 Final Thoughts

You don’t have to present your suffering to the world in a polished manner.
To be worthy, you don’t have to be attractive.
To be loved, you don’t need likes.
Even without anyone applauding you, you are already sufficient.

So, if you want to, post.
Or don’t.
However, keep in mind:

You don’t have a happy life.
A brand is not your soul.
An algorithm is not you.

You’re a human.

Act as though you’re living it.