Digital Native American
2026-07-16
The term "digital native" is so funny to me.
I was born in 1998, and while I know nothing of life before the internet, I definitely don't feel "native" to it in the way those stupid sociologists like to describe. Honestly, I feel like something important was stolen from me, and the worst part is that growing up, I had no idea what was even happening. Older tech guys like to talk about those "glory days" of Usenet or IRC and how "free" the internet felt; while I was growing up, I never felt that way about it. Thankfully, I'm old enough to have had a childhood that was still somewhat detached from the internet, and most of my internet consumption as a child was spent watching stupid meme videos on YouTube, looking at rage comics, and, of course, accidentally clicking CSAM links posted by trolls on 4chan. When I was a kid, I had no concept of the totality of what was taking place digitally, and when those big social media platforms really started taking off, I felt uneasy about what was happening, even back then.
And now that I'm older and have lived through "glory days" of my own, I see with piercing hindsight just how much was stolen from me. What's more frustrating is that I had no means to do anything about it, even if I was aware of what was happening. This whole mindset of "I just want my games to work" and "All I really care about is if it can play music and porn" has created a detached and discombobulated populace. While most people seem indifferent to the inner workings of these technologies, those of us sensitive to the distorting levels of stimuli they produce have been not only existentially and psychically harmed, but have seen a literal deterioration in physical health—well, at least my physical health anyway. What's worse is that people like me are made to think it's my fault, that I didn't try hard enough, or that I wasn't smart enough to adapt to this way of life. But how can you adapt to something that's actively killing you every single day?
As my symptoms of paranoia have escalated, I was made to think that everything else in the outside world is fine and that all of my problems exist only in my head. Well, they fucking don't. The surveillance state is completely real, and while I may not be aware of the exact extent to which I am being tracked, the problem is that it is happening and there is nothing I can realistically do to stop it. As such, I have to constantly be looking over my shoulder—not because of the potential for something bad happening, but because it is happening every single day. People will tell me I'm crazy and delusional, and perhaps for a more neurotypical person, that's true; but what they don't understand is that my sensitivities to this stuff are being actively and constantly exploited. I can see that it's actually happening, and there is nothing I can do to convince most people otherwise. It's like seeing a room that's on fire while everyone else is sitting there confused as to why I'm freaking out.
I've tried telling other people about this stuff, and it genuinely upsets me how much it goes over their heads. I remember I was at a bar chatting with some folks, and these kinds of things came up. I was discussing the harmful nature of social media content and the "attention economy" rhetoric. One of the people retorted, "Well, if it's so harmful, just scroll past it." Can you fucking believe that? WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SCROLLING AT ALL? What could these things actively be giving you? All they've ever done is make people angry, cagey, afraid, and needlessly tribal. This panopticon fucking sucks. It really does.
Writing is the only thing I can do. As much as it gives me joy on certain days—the toll of this gift, this duty, whatever you want to call it—reigns over me every single day. If I don't write, I'll die; it's as simple as that. Cioran had a great quote: "A book is a suicide postponed." Yeah, Cogito most certainly feels that way. All of the writing does, and if anyone else who wants to call themselves a writer doesn't feel that to their bones, then get the fuck off the internet. This isn't some stupid hobby for me. I don't do it for enjoyment. As much as I'd like to say that one day I'll make some kind of living doing this, I don't project that happening any time soon. I look at writers who are really famous, like Sam Kriss, and who actively loathe their audience despite making a living doing what they do, and all I can feel is nothing short of immense disgust. You take your gift and use it to spit in your readers' faces? Sure, Sam got "canceled" or whatever because of some MeToo scandal, but the fact that he holds onto that and still treats his readers with so much contempt makes my blood boil.
But I don't want to be angry, I don't want to be disillusioned, and I most certainly don't want to be envious or pretend that I'm any better. This shit is the cross I have to bear, and I will do so because I know that despite everything else in my life that totally sucks complete donkey ass, there is a higher purpose to what I'm doing here. I might not see fully what's ahead, but the Lord is that light in my path, and I will dutifully help Him hold that lantern to my feet and trust that no matter what comes of any of it, good things are coming. They might not be here now, and I probably won't see them in this life, but I have faith that either here or in the next iteration, Christ will be my shepherd.
I'm content with this herd, at least for today.
Support my work with Liberapay
Bitcoin address: bc1qtgqvj6qjxnaxkns20x5rcwnxvv3jqzhduvvxfc