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When WhatsApp Stops Connecting Us and Starts Consuming Us

When WhatsApp Stops Connecting Us and Starts Consuming Us Technology was supposed to make communication easier. Instead, many of us now carry a small source of anxiety in our pockets. WhatsApp has become so deeply embedded in everyday Malaysian life that it is difficult to imagine a normal day without it. Families organise themselves through WhatsApp groups. Businesses depend on it. Schools use it to communicate with parents. Friends make plans through it. Community groups share announcements, warnings and, occasionally, questionable information. It is undeniably useful. But usefulness can become dependence. And dependence can become unhealthy. The problem is not WhatsApp itself. The problem is the expectation that we must always be available because WhatsApp makes it technically possible. A message arrives. We check it. Another arrives. We check again. A group becomes active. We feel compelled to see what is happening. Someone has read our message but has not replied. We s...

The Like Addiction: Why Approval Feels Like Oxygen

The Like Addiction: Why Approval Feels Like Oxygen

Somewhere between posting breakfast photos and dancing on TikTok, we stumbled into a strange new dependency: the like. A simple tap, a tiny symbol, a meaningless digital gesture—and yet it can make or break our mood for the day. The human brain, it seems, has decided that online approval is as essential as air.

Psychologists compare the rush of receiving likes to a dopamine hit. Each notification is a small pat on the back, a signal that we are noticed, accepted, relevant. It’s the modern-day equivalent of applause, except it happens silently, instantly, and often from people we barely know. For social creatures wired to survive in tribes, this validation feels like oxygen. We breathe easier when it flows in; we panic when it doesn’t.

But here’s the irony: the supply never feels steady. Yesterday’s 50 likes make today’s 20 feel like rejection. One friend’s viral post turns your modest engagement into a personal failure. What started as a tool for connection quietly mutates into a scoreboard of self-worth.

This addiction shapes behaviour in ways we rarely admit. People curate lives as highlight reels, craft opinions to fit trends, even escalate outrage just to boost engagement. Authenticity becomes negotiable when the invisible audience holds so much power. And the worst part? We don’t just crave approval—we measure ourselves against how much approval others seem to get.

Of course, likes themselves aren’t the villain. They can encourage, uplift, and spread joy. The danger lies in mistaking them for nourishment. Approval can fuel confidence, but it cannot replace it. If every breath of self-esteem depends on someone else’s tap, we risk suffocating the moment the applause stops.

Perhaps the healthier challenge is to treat likes as seasoning, not oxygen. A sprinkle adds flavor; too much overwhelms the dish. Approval is sweet, but living for it leaves us hungry.


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