Don’t you ever wish we could disconnect? Not from the people we love, but from the constant pressure to always be available, always reachable, always “on.”

We live in a time where everything is just a tap away. The world has advanced so quickly. Technology has brought us ease, speed, and connection like never before. But along with that, it has quietly added a new kind of weight to our lives. A subtle but persistent expectation to stay online, to reply immediately, to be present at all times. It’s exhausting, even if we don’t always realize it.

Sure, we can silence our phones. We can decide to reply to messages later. We can take breaks when we feel overwhelmed. But even then, it doesn’t feel like a true pause. The pressure lingers in the background, quietly whispering that you’re falling behind, that someone is waiting on you. It has become so embedded into our routines that separating from it feels nearly impossible.

Sometimes I miss the simplicity of landlines. The feeling of calling someone and not reaching them. The sweetness of missing someone you couldn’t talk to instantly. There was something tender about the waiting, the anticipation, the distance. Now, we take the instant nature of communication for granted. Messages fly back and forth all day, yet the feeling behind them often feels diluted.

Lately, I’ve been craving slower, more intentional moments. I want to say, “Let’s meet Wednesday at eight,” and know we’ll both be there without confirming a dozen times. I want to go back to making plans and trusting them. I want to lessen the quantity of interactions and bring back the quality. Not every moment needs to be filled with updates or check-ins. Sometimes, it’s okay to just be, and then show up when it matters.

I miss the depth that came from space and silence. From time apart. From having stories to tell because you hadn’t spoken in a while. These days, it feels like we’re constantly talking, but rarely saying anything meaningful.

I don’t know if anyone else feels this way. Maybe it’s nostalgia. Maybe it’s burnout. Maybe it’s just me wanting to experience connection on my own terms again — more quality, less quantity. Something slower. One that doesn’t depend on constant notifications, but instead is built on trust, presence, and care.

Or is that too 90s of me?