the social internet is worth saving

“I miss when being online used to be fun.”

I hear it all the time.

We complain that the internet has become this inescapable hellscape where 1) nothing is real and 2) it still makes us feel like shit. And yet, we can’t turn it off.

2025 has only made it worse.

AI-generated content is everywhere, bots make up most of our engagement, and people create a personal brand before discovering their personal identity.

What we’re missing isn’t the internet before AI—it’s real connection. We seek the comfort and strength that comes with knowing that we’re not alone.

The social internet is worth saving for this simple reason.

And it begins with us posting as ourselves rather than as personalities.

optimizing everything is boring

I last shared my writing 3 years ago.

I’ve been uninspired; most of my friends have left social apps for group chats, and those who remain online are caught up in the content optimization game.

When I found myself wanting to share my writing online, I overthought:

How could I perfectly capture the joy of starting over in a new city, or the professional growth that came with new career opportunities, or the ego death I survived after I realized all I achieved isn’t what I want anymore?

I spent months trying to condense everything. I needed it to be earnest but relatable, raw but within reason. While writing, I considered you, like an invisible filter of how real I could be. I worried about it being too long, or uninteresting, or honest in a way I couldn’t take back.

I had started subconsciously viewing my writing and art as content.

Now, I could have condensed all of my thoughts into an article of what’s considered to be the perfect length, half-written by ChatGPT, and shared it at the optimal time of day to increase its chances of being seen.

But what would that gain me?

More followers? Over hollow words that are hardly my own?

Most people are so driven by engagement that they hardly realize how much they’re muting the real parts of themselves—all in the guise of “being someone”.

If we stopped taking ourselves so seriously and posted because we have something to say instead of constantly trying to prove that what we have to say is important, we’d be much happier.

I understand that this candid approach to the social internet isn’t for everyone.

Some of you have businesses where it’s in your best interest to assume a personality; others pay rent with the money they make from creating content; some prefer to be anon.

Though I can’t help but wonder how many other people are out there like me, where the internet has been a means to cultivate more than status or money.

cultivating real connection

When I consider the impact that being myself online has had on my life, the best memories all link back to one common theme: fuck it, we ball.

I’m kidding, but also not.

By showing up as myself online, I’ve:

• Made lifelong friends
• Traveled to and lived in new cities
• Inspired others to create freely

Did I shitpost because I knew they’d lead to some of my best friendships and relationships? No. I wasn’t thinking at all.

Could I predict that getting involved in crypto in 2021, over *checks notes* non-fungible olive garden, would lead me to move to SF to accept a job offer? No. I was too busy with unlimited breadsticks.

Did I know that learning Blender in public (no matter how embarrassing) would inspire other designers to learn? No. I taught myself because it held my curiosity.

My point is: being online was most fun and rewarding when I didn’t care about optics or what I stood to gain. I was just me, doing things that I liked.

This connection—to others being themselves—is why I choose to log in.

the social internet isn’t dead yet

Engagement farming, ragebait, and clankers aside—there is still hope.

As humans, we will always crave stories and authenticity.

While the internet may suck right now, we have the power to swing the pendulum back towards what’s real. Sharing our journeys, learnings, and thoughts is infinitely more interesting than cheap, attention-seeking AI slop.

In the meantime, we shouldn't allow the influence of the algorithm to affect how we express ourselves. I can only imagine the brilliant, untapped potential of those who feel pressured to perform instead of showing up as themselves.

The social internet will only be saved by genuine human connection.

I plan to help that happen and hope you will, too.