For many of us who haven’t left the house or socialized in a while, we subconsciously use social media as a coping mechanism. I know the times I got really antsy, I was quick to open up a social media app to see what people were doing in the rest of the world. The premise of social media was to facilitate connection between people who did not have the means to interact with each other physically. Recently, I began wondering if social media could truly substitute for in-person socialization, and whether it could realistically remedy any feelings of loneliness we may be experiencing. The question kept popping up: Are these real connections we’re forming when we interact with strangers, particularly influencers, online? Although research is in its infancy, new studies suggest that having a sense of connectedness online may not offer relief from social isolation in our real worlds. This essay will examine the social and psychological repercussions of engaging with influencers specifically, where connection is imitated to generate income, thereby perpetuating a cycle of loneliness.
Loneliness is the uneasy feeling that results from the absence of meaningful connection with people in our social networks. If I haven’t spoken to anyone all day, seeing faces through a screen almost feels like being surrounded by people. When a content creator goes live on TikTok, it resembles being on a FaceTime call with someone you’re close with. They may have responded to your comment or answered your question. Now you’re besties. When you comment on a post or video and receive a reply, it gives the impression of striking up a conversation with a stranger. Watching a life update video from your comfort YouTuber feels like catching up with an old friend.
As we know, influencers are online personalities who earn a living by promoting products from companies that have sponsored them. They can be quite competent in piquing product interest among their viewers. But I’ve come to realize that influencers are not just people; they’re brands. When influencers have established trust and rapport with their audience, we are more likely to be swayed by their opinions and recommendations. Their success is grounded in portraying themselves as regular people and maintaining a reciprocal relationship with us, which makes their product reviews feel more authentic. We purchase products from brands they have partnered with, which accounts for the bulk of their earnings, resulting in a financial gain for the company as well.
This effect is enhanced through the forging of parasocial relationships, which play a vital role in increasing visibility and following. We are falsely convinced we know influencers on a deep level. I’ve noted influencers reveal very few personal details about themselves, as I don’t believe sharing this with hundreds of thousands of strangers comes naturally to most. Instead, they share much of what they do throughout the day, or general activities they participate in. This feels intimate, as if you’re actually hanging out with them. It’s sufficient for them to maintain their devotees. Given the nature of this strategy, our desire for connection and vulnerability is preyed upon.
Despite the illusion of closeness, these interplays are one-sided, lacking depth and individual acknowledgment. There are characteristics unique to face-to-face communication that are not conveyed through online interactions, such as physical contact, body language cues, tone of voice, and facial expressions. These offer us greater emotional support, heightening connection, and acting as a shield against loneliness. Fundamentally, our essential needs are not being met with digital contacts. Thus, the cycle of loneliness is fueled.
Another way we may be suffering from watching influencers is by enduring a fear of missing out. FOMO comprises anxieties and insecurities stemming from missing out on possible enjoyable social events or not being in the know about them. Influencer culture exacerbates FOMO, as we feel compelled to stay up-to-date with the affairs taking place in an influencer’s life. We were led to believe watching influencers would provide us with some advantage or social support, but in fact, it makes us feel inadequate, often without us registering it.
We subsequently act on these feelings, as FOMO is related to consumer behavior. Essentially, we become burdened by a strong desire to consume products to feel like we belong to a distinct group. Purchasing a viral product can make us feel like we’re part of an online brand community. We want to share our experience of using the product with others, perhaps leaving a review to feel even more part of the club. This habit appeals to our need to foster a sense of belonging and maintain social connectedness, but often falls short of expectations, as it’s functionally a marketing scheme.
If you’d like to hear an argument in favor of influencers, I’d tell you that work is work, and we all have to make our coin somehow. For most of them, the job fell into their laps and was not something they aspired to. They merely transformed it into a living. Hardly anyone could have predicted this would be a viable career even twenty years ago. Ironically, influencers may be encountering the same loneliness and disconnect they bolster under such a system. They could conceivably be deficient in worthwhile connections with the people in their lives and seek validation from their fans. Irrespective of their intent or how they chose to navigate their success, the damage persists.
All this culminates in something severe. We neglect real-life connections in favor of virtual ones. Most of us come home after a long day and catch up on what we’ve missed online while we were away. Plenty of us are guilty of spending more time keeping up with the lives of strangers through a screen than the lives of people around us. Why should influencers take priority over our close acquaintances and family members? It’s especially stressful being on the receiving end of this harmful practice, as I crave nothing more than to connect with the people around me, but they have been conditioned to crave scrolling.
There are safer ways to use social media. I decided to quit appearance-based social media. I advise against watching anyone whose content revolves around themselves and their daily life. Specifically, creators whose work centers on their image and persona. I only watch accounts and channels that have something truly beneficial to offer. I steer clear of purely entertaining content and curate my feeds to be informational, educational, and reflective. I also began to scroll more cautiously. If any anxious feelings surface or if I see something that makes me feel bad about myself, I immediately log off, because I deserve far better than that. These small changes helped me, and they can be a starting point for you too.
Life does not happen through a screen. Social media offered us a “solution” to loneliness, but I’m rejecting it. We can all gain from being more aware of our potential emotional connection with influencers and the adverse impact it can have on our well-being. Interactions with influencers do not hold a candle to real-life, face-to-face connections. While a pleasant exchange on social media is not entirely insincere, it pales in comparison to an act of kindness performed in person. The proof is in the way I’m far more likely to remember what happened to me in the flesh. Anything that occurs online is intangible and does not evoke as much emotion. Because of this, it hardly ever sticks with me. Put simply, real-world connection keeps us going.
Further Reading
Emily Writes 
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