The Scroll

I used to walk barefoot in the sun, feel the earth, hear birds, laugh without waiting for someone to double-tap it. Now, I scroll. Endlessly. Through lives I don’t live, faces I don’t know, bodies I’ll never own. My thumbs have memorized the ache of chasing something that never stays approval in pixels, connection in illusions, love behind a filter. I forget the sound of silence, the kind that heals, not the one that’s drowned by constant buzzing. I forget that peace isn’t posted, and joy isn’t captured it’s lived. They said it would connect us. But we’re lonelier than ever. Together, but never close. Visible, but never seen. So I put down the phone. And hear my own breath. It’s shaky, but mine. Real. Like the sky. Like the sun on my skin. Like the friend I haven’t called in weeks. This is not just an app. It’s a mirror and today, I choose to look away. — Jalilah Usna ✍🏽🖤