Social Media Is Allergic to Socializing

I'm a clinical psychologist who's obsessed with social connection.

I believe being with people is the most powerful mental health tool we have. And I believe the most meaningful thing any of us can do is just be the best part of someone else's day.

Social media is allergic to all of this.

My friend Brandon put it perfectly:

"I tap, tap, tap on my friends' Instagram stories. Just trying to make the little circles disappear. And after I'm done I can't tell you a single thing that happened."

I've seen this with patients. I know the research. I feel this in my bones.

And I'm not immune.

I miss my friends. I open Instagram. Scroll for connection. It never comes.

And I keep doing it every day.

You can see everyone. You can reach no one.

I follow nearly every person I've ever met.

Across every platform, I rarely see my actual friends. When a friend's post does appear, it's sandwiched between AI slop and distant crises I'm powerless to stop. My DMs are mostly just people I know forwarding me content from people I don't know.

In 2025, Meta admitted only about 7% of time on Instagram involves content from friends. Seven percent. I'd love to just know how my friends are doing. Instead I get a vague shadow of their lives, drowned out by a content machine designed to keep me watching.

This is what the Phantom Zone feels like

In Superman, the Phantom Zone is a prison where you can observe everything but touch nothing. You can see people. They can't hear you.

That's what scrolling at night feels like.

Everyone I'd want to connect with is right there. But the chances of anything real? Almost zero. I'm watching their lives through the glass of my iPhone.

And the screen strips out everything that matters. The warmth in someone's voice. The eye contact that tells your brain "this person cares about you." All pixelated into a dumb little ❤️ react.

Friendship is actually simple:

1. Become a familiar presence in someone's life.
2. Do something together.
3. Share something personal.
4. Keep doing that.

You can't do any of it from inside the Phantom Zone.

The way out is through the door

We've been in the Phantom Zone so long our social muscles have atrophied. We've forgotten how to just be with each other.

Now, friendship needs a project.

Star Trek gets this. The crew isn't friends because of those 24th century vibes. It's a workplace drama about overachievers in space trying to do the right thing together. The mission brings them together. The friendship gets built because they have to do something together.

I love sci-fi because it looks at the world as it is and asks:

does it have to be this way?

I don't think so.

• A silent book club.
• A Shiba Inu meetup.
• A potluck where everyone just brings whatever's in their fridge.
• A weekly walk where everyone puts their phone in airplane mode.

I'm trying too.

• I just hosted a family movie night with 2 neighbors.
• Star Trek trivia with my best friend. We miss a bunch of nights, but we make it happen about every other month.
• My wife and I made a list of 100 of the best movies of the 21st century. So far we've finished 3 (a big bucket of popcorn helps make it happen).

None of this is optimized. I invite people over to a messy house (someone always says it makes them feel better about their own mess). Each would make for terrible content. But every single one of these nights is better than anything my feed has ever given me.

I bet yours would be too.