Social Media Disease Poem by ashok jadhav

(A figure stands illuminated by the cold glow of an imaginary screen, fingers twitching, eyes restless.)
Look at me.
No—don't look at me, look at the screen.
That's where my face lives now.
Filtered. Cropped. Approved.
Measured in likes, weighed in shares,
Validated by strangers who don't know my name.
This is the disease.
It doesn't bleed, it doesn't cough,
But it eats—slowly, endlessly—
At attention, at truth, at self-worth.
I scroll to feel alive,
I post to feel seen,
I refresh… and refresh… and refresh…
As if meaning might load at any second.
Do you know how exhausting it is
To perform happiness every day?
To smile for a camera while my real face
Forgets how to rest?
I compare my behind-the-scenes
With everyone else's highlight reels
And call it reality.
They say, Just log out.
As if it's that simple.
As if this sickness hasn't wired itself
Into my nerves, my habits, my silence.
When the screen goes dark,
I feel smaller.
Unimportant.
Alone.
And yet—I know.
Somewhere beneath the noise, beneath the notifications,
There is a self untouched by algorithms,
A mind that can breathe without applause,
A heart that beats without being posted.
This disease thrives on distraction,
But it fears awareness.
So listen—really listen—
Before we forget how to speak without typing,
How to live without watching ourselves live.
I am more than a profile.
More than a post.
More than a number on a screen.
And if I must heal,
It will begin here—
By looking up.