Muted Stories, Loud Feelings

You’re online. Always.

You react fast, reply late, and disappear mid-chat — yet somehow, your name still shows up on everyone’s story view list. It’s a strange kind of presence: constant, clickable, but ghostlike.

You repost memes with captions like “me fr” and “lol mood”, not because they’re funny — but because they’re saying everything you’re too tired to explain. You share aesthetic study notes, perfectly curated playlists, maybe even a “this month’s dump” photo carousel… but buried in the filters and edits are little emotional SOS signals.

No one notices. Or maybe they do — and just scroll past.

That’s the curse of being visible but invisible.

You’re there, glowing green on everyone’s chat, heart-reacting their stories, hyping their posts — while silently breaking in your own room, hoping someone picks up on the coded language of your content. But no one really asks, “Are you okay?” without it being a formality.

Because online, feelings are algorithmic. Loud emotions don’t trend unless they’re aesthetic. Anguish has to come in pastels, heartbreak has to be tweetable. The world scrolls fast, and vulnerability doesn’t always get good engagement.

So we mute our own stories — but not the kind on Instagram.

We mute our real stories — the ones we’re scared to type out or say aloud.

And yet, our feelings scream louder than ever.

Muted Stories. Loud Feelings.

That's the new way of being alone — online.