Leave Me Alone

i can’t tell whether solitude made me introverted, or introversion made me seek solitude. either way, i’m used to the silence — and i prefer it that way. this doesn’t mean i avoid people; i simply don’t feel the need to be surrounded by them all the time.

when i am around others, i keep to myself most of the time. i enjoy observing, listening, and simply being present without the pressure to contribute to every conversation. i’m grateful that my close friends understand this — they know my silence doesn’t equate to disinterest.

i cannot foster superficial connections anymore. i’m out of patience for walking on eggshells or for people who talk shit behind your back — if you have something, say it to me straight up. i’m socially and emotionally exhausted, and i often look like i’m so done with everything.

but this disposition clashes with a modern world that runs on constant, unsolicited demands for attention.

the fight for attention

attention is a luxury good, and it has become the new currency everyone wants to collect.

in real life, that’s manageable. it’s the salesperson, the shop worker tailing me, and the noise of traffic. i can put on noise-cancelling earbuds, and most people understand a clear “no”. i know these interruptions are often just part of someone’s job, and i don’t take them personally. i just want to stroll in peace.

online, though, it feels like a siege. before i can even read a sentence, a site demands i subscribe, accept cookies, create an account, enable notifications, download their app, and sign over my firstborn child. i will willingly pay or subscribe if i find value, but they always shove these demands in my face before i can evaluate that value.

enshittification

this digital siege has been coined as enshittification. consent is no longer part of the equation — it’s either “yes” or “maybe later”. i’ve become so tired of popups and modals that my instinct is to reject everything, even when something might interest me. it’s a defense mechanism at this point.

and don’t get me started on mandatory features — the ones i can’t disable, or “not interested” buttons that forget my choice after 30 days. excuse me, but what the fuck? how about never show me that again?

it’s just plain harassment at this point.

so i’ve made it a rule: if a website or app interrupts me for something unrelated to what i’m doing, i leave or uninstall. i don’t care how “good” the service is; disrespecting my time is a dealbreaker. if an app prompts me for a rating, i can assure them they do not want my rating.

i know my experience is shielded. i only realized how bad the default experience has become when i used someone else’s device. i never browse without an ad-blocker, i run privacy extensions, and my network filters junk through my home server at the DNS level. for some services, i’ve opted out entirely. for others, like YouTube, my blockers remove every trace of “shorts” from the page.

a mandate to perform

this external battle becomes an internal one when the world insists i must participate. with every headline about “AI replacing our jobs”, the new doctrine is to “build a personal brand” to stay relevant. we are told to “put yourself out there” or be left behind.

i’d be lying if i said i didn’t enjoy some recognition for my work. but when i weigh it against my privacy, i’d rather not. it’s too easy to sell your soul for attention. i’ve felt the regret that comes from oversharing, a cost too high for my peace — the lingering discomfort after revealing too much of yourself to the void, knowing you’ll never be able to take it back.

this is why i fundamentally don’t understand the obsession with being seen. why must everyone have an opinion on everything? why do people race to comment “first”? why do they broadcast every fleeting thought?

if i were ever famous, i’d spend every day anxious about my privacy. imagine walking into a room and every eye turns toward you. i would hate that kind of attention.

choosing obscurity

some thrive under the spotlight — i respect that. but fame is not the only path to meaning. many live fulfilled lives without being known at all.

don’t conflate solitude for loneliness, or privacy for shyness. i’m not lonely when i’m alone, nor shy when i’m with others. i am alone because i choose to be. obscurity is a gift i give myself.

would you like to apply for [insert product]? no, i’m not interested.
do you want to sign up for [insert service]? no, i’m good.
do you accept our [terms, cookies, policy]? no, i do not.
would you like to […]? no. stop asking me.

do you… no, whatever it is. just leave me alone.