Have we as a generation lost the ability to get value out of experiences without constantly  documenting them online? Platforms such as  Instagram and Facebook, which our millennial predecessors pioneered, started as instruments of connection. Your friend moves out of town? Across the country? You still have access to a little part of their life. Though heavily curated, their feed and stories offer a peek into the places they’re visiting, the food they’re trying, the friends they’re making. This is all well and good—I use Instagram as much as the next person. In fact, I backed out of my plan to give up posting for Lent because of my deep love for it. Maybe that is what inspired the spiral I have found myself going down about the new social media apps that have somehow accumulated on my phone. Although it began with a single platform, the opportunities for individuals to share their experiences to online followers has expanded drastically over the past few years.

Did you just read a good book? Watch a terribly boring movie? Have the best pizza on planet Earth? No longer are you limited in sharing this news with the people in your immediate vicinity. Rating apps like Goodreads, Letterboxd and Beli provide everyone with a space to publish their opinions. Want to brag about a 14-mile run you finished before 10 a.m.? Strava is the app for you. Not only can you show off your pace to your friends, but you can enter challenges and start exercise streaks. No stone goes unturned. If you want it to be, your life can become an open book for the Internet. Just like with Instagram, I am no stranger to these experience-based apps. I rate, I log, I collect streaks, I document my days. In a way, it feels satisfying. If I watch a two-and-a-half hour long movie, shouldn’t I get some credit for that? My friends and I even have competitions against each other on a few of our shared platforms: Who can visit the most new restaurants in 2026? Who can read the most books? And being in the lead fosters a strong sense of pride. Maybe this proves that we are the most well-rounded, the most explorative. If going to a small liberal arts school says anything about us, we do love to expand our knowledge as much as possible. It all makes me wonder, though, would taking these resources away simultaneously take something away from the actual experiences? 

One thing I know for certain is that I would not shift out of my routine as much as I do if it were not for these apps. It would be boring to constantly re-log the same movies or post a photo of the same hike on my Instagram story. And, if I’m on the app already, why not use it to its fullest capacity? I feel the same towards others’ posts. I have no desire to read someone’s third opinion about Jaws, which is surely a more dramatized version of their first two takes. In this way, perhaps I am adding value to my life. I am not trapped in a cycle but rather gravitating toward the unfamiliar. Such an approach is validated and encouraged by online platforms. Notifications pop up daily to remind you to “Keep your three-week reading streak!” or to let you know that “Your Instagram friend posted for the first time in a while! Go like their post!” The design of each app is for constant engagement—with your own feed and with others.

However, at a certain point, it starts to feel like the primary motivation behind branching out is the opportunity for documentation. Instead of going to a tried-and-true restaurant that I know I love, I find myself consistently seeking out  new spots not for the enjoyment of the food or ambience but for the satisfaction of posting (and the resulting engagement). I often hear such sentiments mirrored by those around me. For example, when friends suggest checking out a new beach to get a good photo for their Instagram story or purposefully watching a movie that they think will impress one of their Letterboxd followers when they log it. And this thought process does unfortunately ring slightly insincere. It is difficult to be truly authentic to oneself when acting in a certain, polished way solely to appear that way to one’s followers. 

To let myself—and these platforms’ other patrons—slightly off the hook, I will argue that two things can be true at once. Experience-based apps can incentivize their users to push the boundaries of their comfort zone, thus allowing them to explore new valuable opportunities. But, they also can cheapen these experiences by shifting the motive from self-improvement and actualization to online attention and external validation.

A debate that keeps popping up on my social media feeds, in a joking manner, surely, is whether people would still study abroad if they couldn’t post their photos on Instagram. That is a good question, and one that I hope this article makes you ponder. For, how far have we really strayed from being able to truly live in the moment? I would suggest testing this theory out. But, again, I have backed out of giving up posting before and would certainly do so again. However, smaller ways of shifting emphasis away from posting and toward truly enmeshing yourself in your pursuits could still be beneficial. Whether that is accomplished through deleting an app, placing limits on screen time or just ignoring the posting impulse, little steps like these can make a big difference down the road with regard to the strength of your identity, your connections with others and your relationship with the reality around us. In a world that is centered around screens and online presences, be the person to move away from that emphasis. I know that I, at least, will start to try and make an effort.