# Escaping the Algorithm
<span style="font-size: 13px;">
<span style="color: var(--tx2);">Planted:</span>
<span style="color: var(--tx1);">06 November 2025</span><br>
<span style="color: var(--tx2);">Last tended:</span>
<span style="color: var(--tx1);">06 November 2025</span>
</span>
My relationship with social media has always been paradoxical, especially in recent years. While I adored the early days of Facebook and Instagram, when everything felt more personal and authentic (in my experience and opinion), a strong aversion to these platforms grew within me over time.
I never grasped the purpose of platforms like Snapchat, yet I used them for years. I was locked in an inner conflict: not wanting to waste my time versus a desire to be seen and a fear of missing out. These platforms are, after all, the easiest way to form new connections. Also, sharing my inner turmoil on Tumblr or my artwork on Instagram felt, in a way, like therapy.
Putting my emotional landscape into writing served as a crucial release, a coping mechanism, especially when I was younger. Sharing my photographs and creating stories on Instagram provided a distraction from whatever was going on in my life, and I adored losing myself in editing, even if it was just for a fleeting story.
Then there was the argument of visibility as an artist in more recent years. As I worked on new artwork this year, I thought maintaining a profile was a necessary part of an online portfolio.
I had great plans for Instagram, the last major social platform I was still actively using, especially for the upcoming months. I wanted to experiment with reels for my artwork and my calisthenics training. I actually had discovered an exciting interest in videography recently, creating my first streetworkout compilations that received incredibly positive feedback.
But simultaneously, I noticed the weight it put on my mind. The need to be seen began to feel excessive and unhealthy, especially after this year's hardships. And over time, I developed a strong desire to simply become invisible to that part of the world.
I also developed a starkly rational perspective on modern social media. It's flooded with fake ads, AI generated 'brainrot', and misinformation. It has transformed from a place to share life's moments into a soulless machine for self-promotion and a trashcan for AI generated content. And if you're not posting, what's the point of the other 95% of the time spent doom-scrolling through reels?
Thus, spontaneously, I deleted all of my Instagram accounts, leaving only my profiles on dedicated art platforms. and three other exceptions: Mastodon, Discord, and LinkedIn.
**Mastodon** still radiates the cozy, authentic feel of the early social web.
**Discord**, in my opinion, is a fantastic and significantly better resource than mainstream platforms for connecting with people who share similar interests and passions.
And as for **LinkedIn**, while it's often memed on (and rightly so), it remains an incredibly valuable professional platform. To date, every significant job opportunity I've found originated there.
## Aftermath
Before deleting, I announced my intent to those I frequently shared contact with on Instagram. The reaction was surprising, but also incredibly telling. Many said, and I'm quoting a friend:
>*» You broke out of the cycle? Damn. Proud of you. I hope I can do the same one day. «*
The effects set in almost immediately: a pleasant sense of relief. It also revealed just how much time I was spending on the app. The first day, I often caught myself autonomously navigating to where the app had been, wanting to open it out of sheer habit. Between sets at the gym or while waiting, I felt a constant urge to mindlessly wander through my "For You" page.
By now, a few days after taking this step, my screen time reduced to a third of what it was, and in general, I am simply on my phone much less.
The most significant difference, and one I certainly didn't expect, is how much clearer my mind feels. It's a sensation I'd describe as worrying less. A truly freeing feeling.
I don't plan on ever returning. I'm incredibly happy with the corner of the internet I've built for myself here and I don't mind at all being invisible to the 'trendy' part of the web.
I'm freed from the guidelines and restrictions of those platforms, especially in terms of creative freedom. Of course, I'm still limited by the tools I use, but the scope is far greater than e.g. Instagram ever allowed.
I'm also not drawn to think about analytics. I disabled any tracking on my websites and, honestly, don't care as much either.
As for the argument that an artist needs social media for visibility, I personally see no benefit in my own, personal position and experience (though I certainly don't want this to be seen as a universal truth - this is purely speaking for myself). I've been offered amazing opportunities I would have received without any social media profile, which to me is proof enough that I don't "need" these profiles.
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If your income or reach isn't directly (or indirectly) linked to it, I can only recommend taking the same path, or at least trying it for a set period.
Ever since I created this digital garden, I've thought how nice it would be if more people had such a page. It's significantly more personal and authentic (as I like to say, it has a 'soul'), and it comes with significantly more freedom. Nowadays, it's easier than ever to create a website for yourself; and I feel like the focus is set much more on the work itself than its performance.
Of course it remains a matter of cost: I don't earn any money with my websites; in fact, they cost me money every month. Yet the reward and the joy I get from preparing content for them, from simply tending to them, will forever be worth more than any subscription for other common services or "free" social platforms ever could be.