From the Bustling Marketplace to the Quiet Gallery

There’s a question that lingers now and then:

" Why don’t you share your writing on social media so more people can read it?”

I understand the sentiment. After all, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok—they’re the bustling marketplaces of our digital age. A single post can be seen, liked, shared, and amplified in a matter of seconds. But for someone like me—an introvert who finds peace in solitude—these platforms feel more like crowded malls than meaningful meeting spaces.

If social media is a marketplace, then my blog is a quiet, open gallery nestled in a misty mountain village. It’s not a place you stumble into by accident; you come because you’re invited or because you’re looking for something that resonates. This blog is where I store memories, thoughts, and quiet dreams—not to be broadcast to the world, but preserved for those closest to me: my family, my friends, and maybe a few strangers who happen to need the same thoughts I once wrestled with.

The Human Need for Limits

I believe God created us with intentional limitations—our eyes can only see so far, our bodies only go so long, our minds only hold so much. Even imagination, the one thing that feels limitless, eventually wears us out.

Relationships are no different. We’re wired for depth, not endless expansion. We can’t possibly know everyone. And yet, social media stretches our social bandwidth beyond what’s humanly sustainable. It tempts us to peek into lives far outside our immediate world—often at the expense of being truly present for those within arm’s reach.

Digital Fatigue and the Power of Saying No

Several years ago, I uninstalled Instagram and Facebook. Not in protest. Not to make a statement. Simply because I realized they were taking too much. Too much time. Too much attention. Too much emotional energy. I never signed up for TikTok. And while I still keep X (formerly Twitter) for news updates, my days of scrolling aimlessly through curated lives are over. It wasn’t that I hated social media. In fact, I still visit Facebook or Instagram occasionally through a browser, especially when I want to check on a specific friend or memory.

And there’s another reason—one that’s more personal and more difficult to admit.

When I used to post on social media, deep down, I was looking for approval. I wanted people to notice. I wanted to be seen as thoughtful, creative, maybe even admirable. I waited for likes and comments as subtle affirmations that what I shared mattered, that I mattered. And somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling honest.

That’s not to say everyone does this. I know many people who share online with a genuine heart—to encourage, to inform, to bring beauty or hope into the world. And that’s beautiful. But for me, it became a struggle. When I examined my own heart, I found pride hiding behind the posts. And that realization made me pause. It made me reconsider why I was doing any of it in the first place.

I’m not here to judge anyone. But when I judged myself, I found myself guilty. I couldn’t continue in good conscience. And when I stopped posting, something inside me felt lighter—freer. I began to live more privately, but more authentically.

Still Writing, Still Sharing—Just Differently

So, why do I still write?

Because writing helps me remember.

Because words anchor moments that would otherwise drift away.

Because someday, someone I love might need these thoughts—and I want them to be able to find them.

I may not post on social media, but I still believe in sharing. Just not with the whole world all at once. I write for those who come looking. For those who care to linger. For those who find beauty in the quiet.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.