Ask a room of people how many have shared a reel on Instagram and chances are 98% would raise their hand. Of course, there are always a few holdouts in the bunch – namely, the "social media is a waste of time and drains your brain" moral high-ground types. Kudos to them for standing their ground. But for those of us who indulge in social media, reels are fun, right?

Let’s admit it: Each reel is the viewing equivalent of an M&M when you need a junk food fix. They get to the point quickly and convincingly. They can be spiritually inspirational, morally motivating, frustration-relieving and generally all around offer much-needed mind-numbing tidbits to distract from everyday stress.

And what kind of respectable person would we be if we didn’t share the satisfying content of an extra-good 30-second clip with our favorite friends? I mean, they could also use a good chuckle, right? Making someone laugh shows you care. In fact, for daily social media users, it’s gotten to the point that if you don’t share reels off and on (or obsessively for some), are you even friends?

Considering that reel-sharing has been semi-jokingly labeled a new "love language," it’s clear the habit is infiltrating social life in a much more meaningful way than originally anticipated.

You’re not alone

But how did we get to the point of expressing ourselves through pre-recorded videos of other people? Like many social issues we’re facing at the moment, we can most definitely blame COVID-19. The pandemic kept us far apart in societies that were already drifting toward the text-but-don’t-call culture. This distancing was dangerously enabling for a growing population of overthinkers, me included, who prefer the option to edit and rewrite thoughts before actually sharing them. Texting or virtual interactions save us overthinkers hours – or perhaps a lifetime – of having to relive in-person awkward slips of the tongue that are often rehashed with deep, albeit completely unreasonable, shame. Add to that the stress-filled consequences faced by expats like me of having to communicate in two languages on a daily basis and constantly making mistakes, and the situation worsens. I’m sure many of you reading this can relate in one way or another, and trust me, you are not alone.

As a result, there is a growing trend of aversion to instantaneous interaction. For example, my friends and I rarely call each other out of the blue. We send a text and patiently wait for a reply – it could come within minutes, could be days. And we all seem completely content with that. Amid this disconnect, reels provide another opportunity for us to say, "Hey, I saw this and thought of you," without having to demand the person’s immediate attention. For the recipient, it is often a welcome, nonintrusive poke and interpreted as a thoughtful gesture.

More recently, however, I’ve started pondering an ethical dilemma: Are the hours spent on social media making me and those I encourage to use it both emotionally and intellectually dumber? My Instagram feed is currently full of fall-inspired outfits, liberal comedians, workplace humor, a copious amount of satisfying swear words and the occasional interesting recipe. Though I like to see other content, something a bit more thought-provoking, the algorithm is clever and predicts that my mind will be satisfied with light-hearted clips – and my tired brain usually agrees. Having said that, more recently, my intellect has started fighting back. It now questions my life choices after the 10th what-not-to-wear outfit video suddenly meant I spent 45 minutes sitting there aimlessly scrolling. A tiny voice in the back of my mind is firmly whispering, "This is making you dumber, not more interesting."

Even worse, after extensive scrolling, I’m hard-pressed to repeat the gist of every reel I had watched. They’re entertaining while they play but forgotten almost immediately once the next one rolls up. Granted, we all need a few minutes of mindless fun sometimes, but considering the ever-growing habit of sharing reels, does that also mean I am pressuring my friends to engage in the hard-to-resist cycle, as well?

Emotional minefield

Intellectual stimulation aside, labeling reel-sharing as an expression of "love" signals an emotional minefield, implying sentimental value to this primarily superficial habit. What was once a simple whim can now carry the weight of someone’s affections – occasionally unbeknownst to the oblivious recipient. For those searching for emotional connections, shared reels come with expectations – and depending on the sender’s intentions, a response or at least a cute emoji is required to keep things on an even keel. Speaking of emojis, those are another delicately balanced skill. Using the wrong one, say a simple thumbs up instead of a heart, or heaven help you, an eggplant instead of a check mark, could lead to disasters; to add more complexity, a wayward red heart, especially too many of them, could also lend the impression of intimacy or romantic interest. Then there’s the opposite issue of people being quick to read into an ignored share, assuming their affection, platonic or romantic, was rebuked. In the end, the physical distance online platforms provide – and we’ve welcomed – can often lead to a toxic emotional attachment to trivial responses.

In a world where we crave interaction but rarely have time to invest consecutive hours in face-to-face hangouts, reels can offer online conversation starters and superficial social contact. They take the pressure off trying to initiate a conversation that doesn’t revolve around personal issues or the dreaded and boring question, "What did you do today?" But the downside of virtual interactions is that they lack the nuances of real life. If this is truly a new way to express that we care, and from what I’ve observed in my own circle it really seems to be, we need to keep in mind the limits of cute cats pushing pens off tables and debate how much sharing third-party content actually speaks from the heart.

Of course, share the reels. Some of them are truly epic and worth enjoying together, but we certainly deserve something deeper than a 30-second, prerecorded "love language." We owe it to ourselves to be brave enough to engage in the real world – at least on occasion.