Lately, I’ve been wanting to be social

At some point in my 30 years of living, I stopped talking to people. Not just the small talk at work or the occasional check-in with an old friend—I mean real conversations. And I didn't notice how much I missed them until I had no one to talk to.

I used to be social. Then, somewhere along the way, I just… stopped talking. No deep conversations, no casual check-ins—just silence. It wasn't until I hit rock bottom that I realized how much I missed connecting with people. And oddly enough, it took a whole lot of lurking on social media to finally push me back into the conversation.

This feeling actually came over me months before quarantine. I had hit a new low: overdrawn by $600, I was jobless, carless. After crying my eyes out, I realized I had no one to tell. Not even someone who would fake listen. And that kind of loneliness hit different.

Now, I won't trauma-dump (that's between me and my therapist), but here's the truth—I, too, need people, Ari Lennox!

With nobody to talk to, I spent my days scrolling, lurking, and watching other people live their lives. Somewhere between Instagram rabbit holes and back-to-back comment section drama, I thought, When was the last time I wrote?

Because see, new friend, I want to be a writer.

In high school, I carried a binder of handwritten stories with the Triple Crown Publications submission requirements tucked inside, daydreaming about seeing my name on a book cover. Ready at any moment to slip away from algebra and into a world of my own design. My own little safe space where I didn't need to be social because I controlled everything from the weather to the very words that one wouldn't dare speak.

But instead of writing, I was on social media reading about other people's lives while my own dreams collected dust. Spending my entire day on social media just scrolling through comments, and I mean really going through them, but I wouldn't respond. Too worried about what others would think. Don't judge me. I know my therapist, and I have a lot to talk about.

And then, 'rona hit, and my family and I got close. Unsolicited advice close. And that forced togetherness gave me time to think—if I was spending all day online anyway, why not do something with it?

So, I forged another plan and obsessed over it. Overthought. And repeat. Questioned whether I wanted to be a writer or just be seen. Then I came to my senses—who cares? I was broke, living at home, and hadn't worked in months. If I wanted to write, I needed to stop waiting for the perfect moment and start sharing my work.

It wasn't about being famous. I just wanted to be social on social media, man. I wanted to be part of the conversation, to connect. I wanted to create.

So, after way too much hesitation, I started over and created all new social media pages, ready to do exactly what I was born to do—write. Whether 10 people read my work or 10,000, I just want to put it out there. I want to talk about it, improve, and build something real.

Lately, I've been wanting to be social. So, if I like your comment or drop a terrible joke—don't be alarmed. It's just me.

And as for my writing career? It's not happening overnight. But for the first time in 30 years, I'm doing exactly what I want—writing, creating, connecting. And I hope you'll stick around to talk.