I wish the internet loved me like I love the internet. I wish the internet cuddled up next to me on a cold night and gave me a hot cup of tea when I needed one. I wish the internet was a older sibling, teasing me a little, but beating the shit out of anyone who fucked with me.
I wish the internet ran on home servers tended to like rose gardens that would raze themselves to the ground if we poisoned the well with Google Analytics. I wish vandals could draw dicks on the fences of websites that took any data from visitors that wasn’t freely given.
But the internet doesn’t love like that. It hums along like a i-see-both-sides-neo-liberal-fence-sitter letting techno-capitalists run our brains dry of any naturally obtained chemicals we have floating around our skulls. Depressed at 2:00 am, flirting with chatbots we are dissected into into datasets, our compulsions extracted and fed back to us in till the pit in our stomachs can be filled with offensively timed Uber Eats push notifications.
Every post I make I swear it sounds like I hate the internet. Maybe I do. I hate this internet. Every time I go back and listen to the music I used to listen to when I truly loved the internet, it makes me cringe. I get embarrassed I didn’t see the abusive writing on the wall. Maybe the same internet that auto-played those assholes on my MySpace page wasn’t as hot shit as I remember it to be.
I think I remember the internet not as it was, but as I wanted it to be. I don’t think my personal blog utopia every actually existed, but I think I pretend it does because, like a unfinished puzzle, the pieces are all there in front of me reflected in bi-sexual lighting of a 3 hour YT essay. I am just trying to fit those pieces together, even when I don’t know how to pull that off.
– xoxo goblin girl.