Letters, Landlines, and Lost Time

I saw this commercial the other night that hit me differently. It simply asked: What if social media went missing? Like… vanished. No posts, no stories, no likes, no DMs. Just poof. Gone.

At first, I laughed it off—man, that would be wild. But then I sat with it. Like really sat with it. And the silence that filled that imaginary timeline actually felt… peaceful.

Why is no one online? That was the question the commercial dropped like a stone in a still lake. The ripple it left in me stirred something old, something I’ve been missing.

I miss people IRL.

I miss handwritten letters—the kind you folded with care, maybe sprayed a little cologne or perfume on, sealed with a kiss or a doodle in the corner. The kind you’d wait days or weeks for, and reread over and over like it was scripture from someone’s soul.

I miss late-night phone calls, where the only thing lighting up the room was the glow of a cordless phone’s screen. When conversations weren’t interrupted by notifications, just the occasional “Are you still there?” when we both drifted into comfortable silence.

(Except, of course, when the phone rang during dinner and it was my teacher calling my parents. Yeah, those calls I don’t miss.)

I miss face-to-face energy—the way someone’s eyes light up when they’re really listening to you, or the awkward way you both reach for the check at the same time and laugh because that moment is real. Unfiltered. Uncurated.

Back then, you didn’t need a “status” to know how someone was doing—you just asked. And they told you. No likes required.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the way social media connects us. I’ve had beautiful exchanges online. But I wonder if sometimes, in all this connection, we’ve lost touch. With touch. With presence. With the power of just being together without needing to document every second of it.

So yeah, maybe social media did go missing—for a minute, or a metaphor. And maybe it’s not such a bad thing to go missing too. To unplug. To step out into the world and be found by real moments.

I think I’ll write a letter tonight. No WiFi required.