By skyforbes 
Back in high school, TikTok quickly became my go-to pastime. I got hooked because it was so easy to scroll and never felt boring. On average, I’d spend around three to five hours a day, mostly late at night — often without realizing how much time had slipped away until it was 3 or 4 a.m.
I didn’t think much of it at first. But slowly, it began to affect me in ways I didn’t notice right away. I became less present around others, tuned out my surroundings, and even when I go out, something feels off. I started feeling more anxious and insecure about how others saw me. I kept comparing my life to the TikTok videos I saw that already had the things I’m wishing for, and that messed with my head at a young age. It made me feel like I was falling behind talented people, like I had to rush success, as if time was running out and everyone else was already way ahead of me.
In short, TikTok took over my mind, filling it with negativity and self-doubt.
As a young person back in high school, I wanted to share this experience in hopes that it might be a meaningful takeaway for others, especially Gen Z. I’m not saying TikTok is entirely bad or that you need to delete it altogether. But when it starts taking over your time and doing more harm than good, that’s something you shouldn’t ignore.
It’s already known how social media, including TikTok, has made us more connected than ever, but also made us consume much more information than we’re able to fully process. Without enough media literacy, that constant exposure may sometimes lead to unintended negative effects. This has been talked about across blogs, personal stories, news articles, and even books. So I won’t go too deep into that here.
What I really want to talk about is what it was like after I deleted TikTok.
As high school ended and college is nearly starting, I decided to cut out the things that distracted me, and TikTok was one of them. But honestly, it wasn’t just a one-time uninstallation. Every time I deleted the app, I’d end up downloading it again the next day or even just a few hours later, just to check others’ shared posts or reposts because I didn’t want to miss out on the gossip or the latest trends. I was afraid of not having anything to share with my friends or of feeling totally out of place.
It wasn’t easy to fully move on from TikTok. But when I finally did, I started noticing changes in my life.
The hardest part was accepting that I didn’t relate to people around me about the latest topics anymore. In time, I came to accept that FOMO (fear of missing out) wasn’t worth it — not everything needs to be known or followed. I perceived it as a blessing in disguise; I found new things to talk about with my friends and realized missing out wasn’t actually a big deal. It was mostly just in my head — fear rather than curiosity.
Another thing I noticed is that, because I saw less of other people’s lifestyles, I learned to stop comparing myself. I began appreciating what I have and became more grateful for my life. I also found myself spending less time on my phone and paying more attention to my surroundings. Plus, it gave me more time and space to focus on things I love, like writing.
But what surprised me the most was this: I started building real connections with the people around me offline. Before, whenever something happened to someone or I was curious about their story, my first move was to check their shared posts and guess what was going on.
Looking back, this isn’t just my thing— it’s something a lot of young people do, especially with people they care about. We want to know what our friends, crushes, or exes are thinking or feeling, but instead of asking, we scroll through the content they share or reshare on their profiles like detectives.
These shared posts can feel like little clues that show moods, opinions, values, or indirect messages. Checking reposts can feel like finding out someone’s inner world. It’s seen as normal now, but honestly, it’s not always healthy. It can cause misunderstandings and create silent emotional pressure.
I was thinking twice about whether to write here that I was one of the many who did this. But now, I’ve decided to speak up, because it quietly affects the way we connect. It can get in the way of real conversations, trust, and the kind of connection that actually matters.
So when I deleted TikTok, it wasn’t just the trends I stopped keeping up with — it was also other people’s lives. I no longer felt the need to watch or check up on people by looking at the posts they shared or reshared. I chose to check in directly with the people I cared about, kept my attention on what truly mattered, and finally let go of all the noise and drama.
It’s completely normal to have the app, but self-control is everything. When it affects your mental space or how you connect with people, that’s a sign to pause and reflect.
If you relate to this, I hope you’re able to overcome it in a way that’s gentler and quicker than I did, and that my experience can serve as a bit of guidance. And if you’re still using the app — or any social media, I truly hope it never leads to the kind of consequences that quietly harm your well-being.
At the end of the day, anything too much end up hurting more than helping. So use TikTok or other social media platforms mindfully, and take care of your peace.
— Author