Morning starts with a complaint. Not like an event — more like breathing. Not even awake yet, and the tongue’s already mumbling: these algorithms again, all the same stuff. No surprise left, it’s stuck to the routine that tight. The complaint just pops up by default, on its own. Like it’s something needed to kick off the day.

And right away, you reach for the screen. Finger slides over the feed on autopilot, eyes barely focusing. Everything’s annoying: same old pictures, bad jokes, news from yesterday.

Funny thing — but after a minute, you catch yourself smiling at a meme or zoning out on a cat video with a silly sweater. Just now you were mad at this circus, and now you’re back inside it.

The irritation leads nowhere. No escape, no real anger. It’s too shallow — like an itch that feels good to scratch.

The feed annoys and yet feels necessary. Like strong tea after a sleepless night: it burns your tongue, but no point in saying no.

Usually, complaints lead somewhere. A fly in your soup calls the waiter, a glitch calls the repairman.

Here, no one calls anyone and no one plans to change anything. The complaint becomes part of the whole using process. You watch a show and mutter “what nonsense,” but keep watching till the last scene.

It’s not even hypocrisy or weak character.

It doesn’t look like giving up to a big tech giant with its tentacle algorithms.

Closer to a weird balance: wanting to use the place but also keep distance from it. The complaint turns into a ticket to the show — you can be part of it without the risk of fully belonging.

Does everyone do this? Those who moan about extra messenger features are the first to react to new messages; those who curse the news feed for trash refresh it the most during the day.

Sometimes it feels like the loudest critics are the most hooked regulars here.

The word “user” feels flat now. It used to be simple: like it — stay, bored — leave or look for better.

Now the inner setup changed: half of you is hooked and devours content with appetite; the other half stands aside and comments on the absurdity out loud or in your head. Both lines run side by side and don’t bother each other at all.

The complaint gives inner permission to keep doing the same without feeling awkward.

A moral alibi: I get that this is nonsense — so I can use it calmly.

It’s not liking the place; it’s a way to stay inside it and keep the illusion of being free from its rules.

I’m writing about how weird it is to keep complaining about social media… And then this text itself becomes another post in the feed I just cursed.

An algorithm inside an algorithm.

Can you even get out of this loop?