The slow decline of joy

There was a time when every action came with a second thought: how would this look online?

Life stopped feeling like something to live and started feeling like something to perform. Somewhere along the way, the luxury of doing things just for joy slipped away. The simple pleasure of playing guitar, revisiting an old video game, or taking film photos became overshadowed by the invisible pressure to create “content.”

If it’s not posted, was it even real?
If there’s no audience, is there any proof?

Now, sharing every meal, workout, or artwork has become the norm. Sometimes, these things even need to be monetised. Otherwise, how will people know who you are or what you can do?

If your hobbies do not make money, they’re just “wasted time.” Free time itself starts to feel like a gap that needs productivity filled in. There’s a constant whisper: Don’t just relax, turn it into a side hustle. Don’t just consume, produce.

This urge is sneaky. It sounds like ambition, but underneath, it creates some sort of joy and excitement that crumbles if there’s no “social proof” backing it up. Joy becomes a performance for others, and eventually, for yourself.

Social media taught us that our worth is measured in numbers. Likes, followers, views, engagement. We chase trends not because we enjoy them, but because we're afraid of being left behind. We upgrade our phones even when the old ones work perfectly fine. We turn hobbies into side hustles before we've even learned to enjoy them. We got burnt out even before we learned how to enjoy something thoroughly.

Somewhere along the line, we lost permission to have fun for ourselves. Playing guitar alone becomes pointless unless the world can see it. Enjoying a game or reading a book in solitude feels insufficient without sharing a review about it. Even creativity is repackaged as content to be harvested.

How often do you hear someone say, "You should make content out of this?" Everything becomes content. Everything becomes a performance. And in that performance, we lose something essential: the simple joy of doing things for their own sake.

But here’s the truth: joy doesn’t need an audience.

Lately, doing things slowly without sharing, without likes, without profit, has become revolutionary for me. These moments are just for me, enjoying myself and existing in my own world.

It reminded me that enjoyment, in its purest form, is a personal experience. Enjoying the present, cherishing what’s already there, and letting hobbies stay unproductive can help reclaim a joy that is slower, quieter, and maybe more real.

Not everything needs to be witnessed, measured, or monetised.

There is freedom in doing something simply because it brings happiness. Playing music only you hear, creating art only you see, and spending time on passions that are not about productivity or profit can be fulfilling.

We can choose to enjoy what we already have. We can do things slowly, imperfectly, and privately. It is possible to create without monetising, to learn without posting, and to exist without needing to prove anything.

The trends will keep moving. The algorithms will keep demanding. But we don't have to keep performing.

Maybe it's time to log off, pick up that old hobby, and remember what it feels like to do something just because it makes us feel alive.

Let hobbies be just for fun.

Let joy be simpler.

Have fun.

I hope you find this insightful. Remember:

It's not going to be easy,
But it's not impossible.

Your friend,
Brian.