Being Around People Is Making You More Lonely

The Most Connected Generation in History Is Also the Loneliest. Here's the Disturbing Reason Why

You've been reading these Awesome Human Beings insights for months, nodding along, thinking "yes, that's exactly my experience." But you're still stuck in the same patterns, aren't you?

Still procrastinating on the important stuff. Still feeling like you're capable of more but can't break through.

Members get the deep-dive systems and personal guidance that actually create change.

The question that haunts me: How many more months will you waste just thinking about transformation instead of living it?

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Via Freepik

Last Friday I was at this party. Nice apartment, decent music, free-flowing drinks. All the ingredients for a good night.

I knew maybe half the people there. The rest were strangers who smiled politely when we made eye contact across the kitchen island.

And I felt miserable.

Not because anything was wrong. Not because I wasn't welcome.

But because standing there, apple juice in hand, watching everyone talk and laugh and take selfies, I felt like I was behind glass. Like I could see everything happening but couldn't actually touch it.

Maybe you know exactly what I'm talking about.

That weird, hollow feeling when you're physically surrounded by people but feel completely alone. That suffocating sensation that somehow feels worse than actually being by yourself.

If this hits home, I want you to know something:

You're not broken.

You're not a social failure. You're experiencing the biggest mindf*ck of modern life.

We've created a world where we're more "connected" than ever, yet we've never felt more isolated.

More surrounded yet more alone.

And nobody's talking about why.

The Social Media Party vs. The Real Party

Let me paint a picture you'll recognize.

Twenty people at a house party. Music blasting. Everyone's having "the best night ever." The Instagram Stories are flowing. The group photos look amazing.

Behind the scenes:

• Half the people there are anxious as hell

• Most are counting the minutes until they can leave without seeming rude

• Almost everyone's having the same surface-level conversations they've had a thousand times

• Nobody's saying anything real or meaningful

I know this because I've been that guy taking the photos, posting the Stories, captioning them "epic night with the crew!" — then going home feeling empty inside.

The gap between how these gatherings look and how they feel has never been wider.

We've mistaken proximity for connection. Being near people isn't the same as being with them.

What Your Boss Doesn't Want You to Know About Open Offices

It's not just parties and social events. This shit follows us to work too.

Remember when companies tore down all the walls and cubicles to create "collaborative workspaces"?

They sold us on community, teamwork, and synergy.

What they created was a psychological hellscape.

I worked in an open office for years. You know what happened? I bought noise-canceling headphones and avoided eye contact.

So did everyone else.

We were physically closer than ever, yet I knew less about my coworkers than when we had walls between us. The irony was suffocating.

A Harvard study found that after companies switched to open office plans, face-to-face interaction dropped by about 70% while email increased. People weren't connecting more; they were connecting less and hiding behind screens.

We replaced actual conversation with Slack messages sent to people sitting five feet away.

This isn't connection.

It's the illusion of connection.

And your brain knows the difference, even if you don't consciously recognize it.

The "How Are You?" Bullshit Exchange

"How are you?"

"Good, you?"

"Good, thanks."

How many times have you had this exact conversation today? This week? This year?

It's verbal fast food. Empty social calories that take up space without providing any nourishment.

I caught myself in this loop recently at a coffee shop I visit almost daily. The barista and I have had this exchange maybe 300 times. He doesn't know a single real thing about me, and I know nothing about him except that he works at a coffee shop.

We're not connecting.
We're performing connection.

And it's not just casual encounters.

I've had entire dinners with "friends" where we never got past surface-level bullshit. Work talk. Weather talk. Gossip about people we know.

Two hours later, I leave knowing exactly as much about them as when I arrived. No wonder I feel alone afterward.

Your Phone Is Blocking Real Connection

Take a hard look at any restaurant tonight. You'll see tables full of people staring at phones instead of talking to each other.

Couples on dates, both scrolling Instagram between bites.
Friends taking photos of food instead of asking how each other's lives are going. Families sitting in silence, each in their own digital world.

We're physically present but mentally gone. And we wonder why we feel disconnected.

I was at dinner with a friend last month. Every time I started talking about something real — my struggles with work, questions about purpose, actual human stuff — his eyes would dart down to his phone.

And he was not even trying to hide it.

Message received:
whatever's happening on that screen is more important than anything I could possibly say.

The next day, he texted asking why I seemed "off." The lack of self-awareness was staggering.

Your phone isn't just a distraction. It's a barrier. A shield you hold up to protect yourself from the vulnerability that real connection requires.

Put it down.
Look people in the eye.
You might be surprised by what happens.

The "I'm So Busy" Lame Excuse

"Sorry I've been MIA. Things have been crazy."
"Let's catch up soon! My schedule's just insane right now."
"I've been meaning to call, just been swamped."

I've said these things. You've said these things. We've all said these things.

And most of the time, they're complete bullshit.

The truth?

We're not too busy for connection. We're too afraid of it.

We're afraid of the vulnerability it requires. We're afraid of being seen fully, flaws and all. We're afraid of the emotional demands of real friendship.

So we hide behind busyness. We fill our calendars with meaningless bullshit that keeps us "too busy" for the connections that actually matter.

I know because I've done it.

For years, I packed my schedule so tight that I had a legitimate excuse to avoid deeper relationships. "Sorry, can't make it, I'm slammed" became my mantra.

What I was really saying was, "I'm terrified of being known, so I'll make sure I never have time to let that happen."

You're Exhausted from Performing, Not Connecting

Here's a question that cut me to the bone when I first considered it:

When was the last time you were completely, authentically yourself around other people?

Not the polished, professional you. Not the funny, entertaining you. Not the supportive, got-it-all-together you.

Just... you. The messy, complicated, sometimes-contradictory person you are when nobody's watching.

For me, the answer was uncomfortable - I couldn't remember.

I'd become so good at performing different versions of myself in different contexts that I'd lost touch with who I actually was. I had a work persona, a social persona, a family persona, a dating persona.

It was exhausting.

Not because connection takes energy, but because performance does.

Real connection actually gives energy back.

But we've replaced it with performance, then wondered why we're always tired.

The Vulnerability Deficit

I spent years wearing a mask. The successful writer. The good friend. The guy who definitely didn't cry in his car between meetings.

I thought I was protecting myself. Actually, I was isolating myself.

It wasn't until I started being honest about my struggles — with my work, my mental health, my fears — that I began forming genuine connections.

Not everyone could handle it. Some people disappeared when I stopped performing happiness. Good. Those connections were illusions anyway.

The ones who stayed when I showed my real self? They're now the most important people in my life.

Because vulnerability isn't weakness. It's the only path to real connection.

When I admitted to a friend that I sometimes felt like a fraud in my career, he looked relieved and said, "Oh thank god, me too." That single honest exchange created more connection than years of "killing it" conversations.

The Adult Friendship Desert

When was the last time you made a new, real friend? Not a work acquaintance. Not someone you follow on Instagram. A genuine friend who knows the real you.

For most adults, it's been years.

Once we leave school, making friends becomes exponentially harder. We no longer have built-in communities, shared experiences, or regular unstructured time together.

Instead, we have:

• Colleagues we're too busy to grab lunch with

• Neighbors we wave to but never invite over

• Parents from our kids' school whose names we can barely remember

As per New York Post, the average American hasn't made a new friend in five years. Five years. Literally.

We've created lives so isolated, so compartmentalized, that there's no room for new connections to form and grow.

And without friends — real friends, not Instagram followers or LinkedIn connections — we're missing something essential to human happiness.

The Competitive Connection Game

When did human connection become something we compete at?

Social media has turned friendship into a scoreboard.

How many likes? How many comments? How many followers? How many wedding invites did you get this year?

We're not connecting; we're competing. And it's making us miserable.

I caught myself feeling jealous when a post from an acquaintance got more engagement than mine. Then I realized how fucked up that is. I was treating connection like a competition to be won rather than an experience to be shared.

Real connection isn't zero-sum. Your meaningful relationships don't diminish mine. Your community doesn't threaten mine.

But as long as we're treating social connection like a competition, we'll continue to feel isolated — even when we're "winning."

The Fear That's Screwing You Up

What's really keeping you isolated, even when you're surrounded by people?

Fear.

Fear of rejection.
Fear of judgment.
Fear of being seen for who you really are and found wanting.

This fear takes different forms:

For some, it's social anxiety that makes every interaction feel like a performance review.

For others, it's perfectionism that demands a flawless presentation of self at all times.

For others still, it's emotional walls built after being hurt, designed to keep everyone at a safe distance.

I know this fear intimately.

For years, it kept me trapped in shallow relationships. I was terrified that if people saw the real me — with all my insecurities, weird thoughts, and struggles — they'd walk away.

What I eventually realized is that the people worth connecting with are precisely the ones who won't walk away when you show them your truth.

How I Started Feeling Less Alone (And You Can Too)

The answer isn't more social interaction.

It's better social interaction. It's choosing depth over breadth, quality over quantity.

Here's what worked for me:

1. I Cleaned House

I took a hard look at my social life and asked: Which interactions leave me feeling energized and seen? Which ones leave me drained and empty?

Then I made more room for the former and less for the latter.

This meant saying no to big parties so I could have dinner with close friends instead.

It meant leaving events early when they weren't feeding my soul. It meant being honest about who I actually wanted to spend time with, not who I thought I should spend time with.

Your time and energy are finite resources.

Stop wasting them on connections that don't matter.

2. I Got Uncomfortably Real

I started asking questions that matter:

"What's something you've been struggling with lately?"
"What's been bringing you joy these days?"
"What are you afraid of right now?"

And — this was the hard part — I answered these questions honestly myself.

I shared real stuff, stuff that made me feel exposed and vulnerable.

Not with everyone.

But with people I sensed could handle it. Sometimes I guessed wrong, and that was okay. The right people stayed.

3. I Put My Phone Away

I set some basic boundaries:

• No phones during meals with others

• No social media for the first and last hour of my day

• No checking messages when I'm having a face-to-face conversation

It was uncomfortable at first.

I didn't realize how much I used my phone as a security blanket until I put it down.

But the quality of my interactions improved dramatically. I was present. I was listening. I was connecting.

4. I Chose Face-to-Face Over Digital

Whenever possible, I started choosing in-person connection over digital alternatives.

I called instead of texted. Met for coffee instead of sending an email. Visited friends instead of liking their posts.

These in-person interactions were less convenient but infinitely more fulfilling. They engaged all my senses and activated parts of my brain that digital interaction never touches.

5. I Found My People

I stopped trying to connect deeply with everyone and focused on finding the people with whom deep connection was possible.

These were people who shared my values, my sense of humor, my willingness to go beyond small talk. They were people who didn't flinch when I shared something real, who offered their own truths in return.

I focused on nurturing these relationships, even when it meant letting others fade.

6. I Got Comfortable Being Alone

This might sound counterintuitive, but meaningful connection with others begins with connection to yourself.

I started spending intentional time alone. Not the lonely, scrolling-through-social-media kind, but the reflective kind. I journaled. I went for walks without headphones. I sat with my thoughts instead of drowning them out.

This scared the shit out of me at first.

I was afraid of what I'd find if I got quiet enough to hear myself think.

But as I got more comfortable in my own company, I brought a stronger, clearer presence to my relationships with others. I knew what I needed, what I wanted, what I had to offer.

The Hard Truth About Connection

Here's what nobody tells you about feeling less alone:

Sometimes it means being more selective about who you spend time with, not less.

It means saying no to the party where you'll have twenty surface-level conversations so you can say yes to the dinner where you'll have one meaningful one.

It means curating your social media to see more of the people who inspire you and less of those who make you feel inadequate.

It means being brave enough to let your walls down with the right people, even if you've been hurt before.

It means recognizing that connection isn't about how many people know your name — it's about how many people know your heart.

A Final Thought

Yesterday, on a week day, I had dinner with two close friends. We talked about our dreams, our fears, our struggles. We laughed until we cried, and then we cried until we laughed again. We didn't take a single photo. We checked our phones maybe once in three hours.

When I got home, I felt full. Not just from the food, but from the connection. From being seen and heard. From seeing and hearing others in return.

It wasn't a big gathering. It wasn't a networking opportunity. It won't look impressive on social media.

But it was real.

And in a world of fake smiles and emptier promises, real is the rarest thing of all.

Choose real, even when it's harder. Your future self will thank you.

Because at the end of the day, we'd all rather have five people who truly see us than five hundred who only see what we want them to see.

Stop collecting connections. Start cultivating relationships instead.

Your soul knows the difference, even if society doesn't.

Agree?

-Darshak

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