“See Me, Feel Me”
This essay was originally posted May 28, 2026 to Substack.
Screaming into the void first, then coffee.
I can’t sleep.
And instead of grabbing a book or saying a prayer, I picked up my phone. I’m not even sure why. And in the span of thirty minutes, I’ve absorbed no less than ten different perspectives on misinterpreted scripture translations, methods for connecting to one’s higher self, the exploitation of women’s bodies, working mothers, and various religious and political opinions.
There’s a reason we’re all screaming into the void. Even here on Substack, we are all screaming—hoping to be heard. And it feels like no one can hear over their own screams.
I’m starting to wonder who is actually gaining from the energy I hurl day after day into this phone?
It certainly isn’t my family.
I’m having daydreams of throwing this device and its constant notifications into a lake. I wonder what it would feel like to return to snail mail and written correspondence. Newspapers and magazines. To pay my bills on a Saturday morning after balancing my checkbook, and determining how much is left to buy groceries for the week. Doing things the old fashioned way.
I have a lot to say—wisdom and insight I want to offer. But I hold it back and keep it to myself because I’m afraid of two things: 1) no one will give a damn; and 2) they’ll give too many damns. I’m no stranger to hard work. I’m happy to bleed and sweat for something worthwhile. Is this worthwhile though?
Would I be happier walking away if it meant peace for myself alone?
In that vision I have of throwing my phone into the lake, I don’t retreat afterward to a Walden Pond-like existence. I get in my car, and drive to work and then back home at the end of the day. I continue at the same pace, doing the same things. In that vision, I’ve just stopped screaming into the void, having accepted my lot—no longer fighting to be heard.
I don’t want that.
There’s a song from the rock opera Tommy by The Who called, “See Me, Feel Me.” That’s the song playing in my head right now. I want so badly to be seen, heard, and understood.
I want to matter.
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Thank you for reading and supporting The Common Joy.
—Mack
