We live in an age of constant exposure. Every scrolling thumb, every tap, every share carries the unspoken promise of being seen. Yet somehow, being seen has become its own kind of invisibility. The feed never ends, the lights never dim. Still, we keep performing, hoping the algorithm looks back.

Our world is built to be watched. We document our trips, our opinions, our outrage. We measure our relevance by the model of our iPhone, as if the upgrade also upgrades us. But attention, as it turns out, is a weak substitute for connection. We are surrounded by images of ourselves and others, but feel increasingly unseen. Real understanding doesn’t come from visibility — it comes from community, from the slow work of being known by others over time. Building that kind of closeness takes effort, and in a culture trained for instant validation, patience feels like a lost art.