The Next Hit
Social media isn't a stage for performance; it's a slot machine built for addiction. The likes and shares are not applause; they are variable rewards engineered to keep us pulling the lever, hoping for the next hit. In a casino where the house always wins, the only real victory is walking away.
I don’t post on social media often. When I do, it begins with the time-consuming ritual of getting a single photo “just right,” a level of attention rarely given to the moment itself. Then comes the hours of obsessive surveillance: refreshing, checking, waiting for that tiny flash of a “like” or a comment. And in the end? The post drifts away into the indifferent current of the algorithm.
People call this a performance, but that’s wrong. A performance has an audience, a beginning, an end. This is something lonelier, more compulsive. This isn’t theater, it’s a slot machine.
The “like,” the “share,” and the little red notification are not applause. They’re variable rewards, engineered to trigger the same dopamine loops that keep gamblers feeding coins into a machine. We aren’t actors; we’re players, pulling a lever, hoping for the next hit.
And maybe that’s the only way to survive the feed: to remember you’re in a casino. The odds are fixed, the house always wins, and the surest victory is walking away before you’ve lost your time, your attention, and your mind.
