The Performance of Being Nonchalant

(A commentary on being chalant in an increasingly nonchalant world)

In this age, being nonchalant has become an art form. You have to strike the perfect balance: just enough indifference, never the first to text, and not look too excited when you're being invited to plans (just me?). Somewhere along the way, being ‘chill’ stopped being natural and started to be some kind of performance—one we put up to avoid looking needy, awkward, or like we care too much. Sadly, I’m guilty of it too. I’ve acted like I didn’t care about a message, only to keep checking my phone every 2 seconds. These days, we all want to seem unbothered, but it’s fascinating how much effort it actually takes.

The Irony of Not Caring

You’d think not caring is easy. Just… don’t do anything extra, right? Ironically, achieving the effortless, nonchalant look is a curated performance. On social media, especially, “low-effort” isn’t actually low-effort. Photo dumps may look random, but every photo has to be approved by the Committee of Overthinking and Self-Doubt™ (your brain). Even the caption “idk lol” probably went through five drafts.

Somehow, this obsession with seeming effortless has bled into our personalities too. We all want to be the mysterious one—the emotionally unavailable main character in our own coming-of-age film. However, beneath this facade, we are all still human. We still yearn for connection, dread rejection, and put in immense effort to feign indifference.

Why We Pretend: Fear of Vulnerability

In my opinion, this strange trend is a defense mechanism at its core. It’s easier to appear detached than to look foolish for being sincere. After all, nobody wants to be the one who cares more. Admitting that we actually want to love and be loved can be daunting, especially when we’re unsure if you’ll receive the same treatment back.

This is also the reason why, when we do talk about our insecurities, we rarely do so plainly. It is often wrapped in layers of irony or hidden behind memes. The joke becomes a shield: if others laugh, we can laugh along; if they don’t, we can always claim we weren’t serious in the first place. I believe that this performance does not come from a place of pride, but rather from a place of insecurity—because caring openly feels too risky.

The Cost of Constant Nonchalantness

As with everything, there is a price that comes with all this pretending. When you make this facade a part of your routine, it eventually rewires you. You stop getting excited, become more avoidant, and overall a more distant person. You start to build walls so high that you can’t climb out of them. The sad thing about this, however, is that we tend to think of this trait as a strength—being unbothered, unfazed, untouched. To me, the reality is that it is really just emotional laziness disguised as maturity.

I think about the people I've lost touch with because I didn’t want to reach out first or look like I cared more than they did. Sometimes, I wonder if they were also thinking the same thing. Maybe, we were all waiting for someone else to care first.

A Case for Being Chalant

My point is, perhaps it’s time to bring chalantness back. We’ve been conditioned to think that caring too much is a weakness, when in truth, it’s what makes us human. I’d rather risk being too earnest than live my life pretending not to care about things that matter. It’s liberating to show up as yourself—messy, unfiltered, and sincere—compared to playing it cool all the time.

So here’s to caring. To texting back immediately. To saying “I miss you” without adding a witty comment afterwards. It might not look cool, but it feels far more authentic. So, I say it’s worth the risk.

Written by: Alisha

Edited by: Joelle, Chiong Teng, Videl