The algorithm doesn’t lie—but it doesn’t love either.
It reflects back exactly what we feed it, multiplied by a million glances.
If you crave attention, it rewards the chase.
If you crave peace, it punishes your silence.
There’s no mercy in a system designed to measure worth in reaction.
In a locker room, at least you could laugh it off.
Online, the laughter never stops echoing.
We become performers for ghosts—followers who don’t know us, and maybe never will.
Each click feels like connection, but it’s just sound waves hitting glass.
Sometimes I wonder if the algorithm even knows we exist—or if it only sees data wearing human skin.