Burning Beneath

I have been going through a dating app, scrolling through faces. Endless faces. Angles, poses, filtered moments frozen in time. My finger running over the X so fast it almost became second nature.

So many strange things appear on that screen. I find myself wondering why someone would portray themselves in such a way, or describe themselves the way they do. Some profiles are extremely introverted. Others are the complete opposite. Some display their bodies instead of their faces. Many take pictures from the ceiling looking down, probably hoping the angle hides the passing of time.

I am not trying to be harsh. It is simply an observation.

Then I read the profiles.

Honesty. Authenticity. No BS. No drama. Easygoing. Laid back.

And then suddenly come the labels and descriptions. Neurodivergent. Spicy. ENM. INFG. A long list of terms that honestly boggle my mind. Yes, we are diverse. Diversity is part of what makes humanity beautiful. Our tastes, our minds, our characters are meant to be different. That diversity is what makes us who we are.

Sometimes I admire the honesty. Even brutal honesty. Some people clearly know exactly what they want and are not shy about saying it.

But at some point I still find myself unable to fully grasp how forward everything has become.

Maybe I am old fashioned. Or maybe I am simply who I am.

Everyone owns their own truth. Everyone owns their own identity. There is no judgment here. But to me that platform often feels like walking through a boutique shop of meat. You scroll through displays, trying to select something that matches an image or fantasy in your mind.

Trying to match what is on display with what your heart is actually searching for.

And somehow it never works. At least not for me.

Then sometimes I see profiles asking a question that feels strangely familiar.

“Does anyone even read this?”

“Is anyone even here?”

And suddenly I realize something.

They are feeling the same thing.

That quiet sense that something about this is not natural.

Human connection was never meant to look like this.

Connection happens when two people stand in front of each other. When voices are heard. When expressions change. When personalities unfold slowly and naturally. When curiosity replaces judgment and presence replaces performance.

But we live in a time where real human connection has become rare. It takes courage now to step outside and reach for it. Not just for dating. But for simple human interaction. For building bridges. For belonging.

For looking another human being in the eyes and saying, I see you.

Maybe what I am saying is as old as humanity itself. Maybe every generation has said the same thing. Maybe the generations after us will say it even louder as technology grows and isolation deepens.

Yet somehow we keep searching.

The past two days of scrolling left me feeling tired. Lifeless. As if I was walking through a market of faces without ever truly meeting a soul.

At some point I thought, enough is enough.

When will I stop?

But the truth is something inside me refuses to give up.

My need for human connection is deeply rooted in me. Physical connection. Emotional connection. The quiet understanding between two minds.

That need is not something I can silence.

And maybe I should not.

Because hope still lives there.

And hope is what keeps me going.

I know somewhere in this vast world, I will find the connection that feels real.

And for that soul, I will be waiting.