Is it just me, or is something off about how we communicate in DMs?
The other day, I was in a DM conversation that felt almost… normal. I know. Rare sighting.
Actual curiosity. Real questions. A rhythm that suggested both people were present—not just typing, but actually paying attention.
This person came in with energy. Asked thoughtful questions. Engaged. I responded in the same spirit. It almost felt like a real conversation, human interest on both sides. At some point, I asked a question too. And that’s where it ended. Silence.
Now, this isn’t new. It’s happened before. More than once. And for a long time, I handled it the way most people do: I adjusted. I matched the energy. I also didn’t follow up. A mutual disappearance. No witnesses. No closure. Just the unspoken agreement that this is how communication works now.
But lately, something about it has started to feel off in a way I’m no longer willing to ignore. So this time, I said something. Not emotionally or dramatically. Just clearly: that I don’t appreciate this kind of communication.
And suddenly—response.
An apology.
A reference to notifications.
Something about the algorithm. Timing. The general chaos of modern digital life.
A brief performance of digital helplessness, assembled to explain why a conversation that was clearly and happening… simply wasn’t continued.
And I read it and thought: this is exactly the problem. Not the delay. Not even the disappearing itself. But the mythology we’ve built around it. A complexity where things are not that complex.
As if communication in DMs or messages is some separate category of human interaction. As if the medium carries responsibility, not the person using it. But you can communicate on social media just as you can in real life. You can answer. You can close a loop. You can say, “I don’t have the capacity right now,” or “I’ll get back to you,” or even, “I’m not interested in continuing this conversation.”
All of that is possible.
What’s also possible, apparently, is to engage intensely—ask questions, create a sense of exchange—and then disappear and forget about it all.
Let’s face it, it’s not the algorithm. That explanation says more about the storyteller than the technology. Without diving into kitchen psychology here, I’ll just say this directly: it at best says something about one’s communication skills and at worst about a general lack of care for the interaction itself. Or the other way around.
People enter conversations. They engage. And then, at some point, they stop responding with a kind of casual disappearance that has become strangely acceptable. And I need to say this clearly: I’m not participating in that anymore. Not because I expect constant availability. I don’t. Not because every message deserves a response. It doesn’t.
I ghost people too. But there is a difference between not engaging and disappearing in the middle of engagement. And that difference matters.
Because what we are slowly normalizing is not just “being busy” or “missing messages.” It’s a form of communication where presence is optional, but the illusion of presence is maintained. We are constantly communicating, but many of us are not actually in contact. We send messages, we react, we drift in and out of conversations that never fully arrive anywhere. And over time, that creates something subtle but real. A culture of almost. Almost connection. Almost attention. Almost responsibility.
What remains are fragments. Conversations that started but didn’t land. Exchanges that carried energy but were never completed. Words that were sent somewhere, but didn’t arrive anywhere. And I don’t think that’s neutral. I think it shapes how we relate to each other. How much weight we give to our words. How seriously we take another person’s presence (and our own) even in something as small as a message.
So these days, I’m a bit more direct about it. If we’re not in a conversation, there’s nothing to discuss. Silence is fine. But if we are… if there’s an actual exchange, a rhythm, a sense that something is happening… then I expect a basic level of coherence. Not perfection or immediacy. Never urgency. Just coherence. And if that’s not there, I’ll say it.
Because I don’t think we get better at connecting by pretending this is just how it is now.
If this resonated with you, moved you, or made you pause and reflect – consider this your cue. I’ve set up a virtual tip jarviaBuy Me a Coffee. No monthly commitments, no strings, no memberships required.
Your sweet kindness helps keep the thoughts flowing, the energy exchange intact, and the glow of my inner goddess alive. It won’t fix capitalism, but it might buy me five minutes of joy (or at least a cortado).
Gracias. Thank you. Jërëjëf. Merci. Obrigada. Danke. Arigatō. Medaase. Grazie. Hvala. Tack. Asante. Shukran. Teşekkürler. Dziękuję.