Anonymity online is such a fickle little shit. On one side, we have the ability to play with our identities unfettered by expectation. I can test the waters without judgment or pressure. I can try them on for size without making any sort of commitment. I can play with who I am without commitment or shame.

If I want live out my deepest edge-lord elder-emo cringe fantasies, I don’t have to explain that to family. I can just post and post and post black and white photos of graveyards without a care in the world for SEO, a personal brand, or how everyone I’ve ever known will respond to it. I don’t want to explain to Albertan family that, while I am in therapy, it’s not to cure myself from loving atmospheric black metal and the occasional bout of ethical hedonism, it’s to help me manage the pressures of capitalism and the modern world.

That’s the good side of anonymity online. There’s also the other side.

There’s the I can cause as much harm as possible and suffer zero consequences for it type of online anonymity. The I am a weak little shit whose only power comes from violence and hate type of anonymity. I hate that the internet enables that. The my behaviour online doesn’t really count bullshit type of anonymity.

Fuck that part of the internet.

So as per usual, the internet tears me apart. I love it. I hate it. I’m obsessed with it. I despise it.

Maybe I just want a world where who we are is actually okay. That posting pictures of questionable anime and graveyards on main didn’t make me think “Will my connections on LinkedIn hate me for this?”.

(I unironically love LinkedIn)