The fear of the Internet
In recent months, I’ve been feeling this desire to be more present on the Internet, in part because I miss the way things used to be, when I was a kid or teenager and the Internet was something cool, but also because I keep finding facets of myself that need a channel, a way to sprout and develop and grow outside of me.
The solution to this might sound obvious: simply being more present, on social media or other websites, would suffice. But every single time I try to concoct a blog post, or an Instagram post, or anything, really, I get panicky and restless, immediately feeling submerged by doubts. As much as I’ve been sharing my life online for as long as I remember (I’m pretty sure I singed up to a video game themed forum when I was 10 years old or younger), the present moment feels different, thorny, scary. Most days, it’s hard not to spiral into doom, and I mean it: capitalism has already ruined everything; is it sensible to create something in this day and age just to see it crumble down a few years down the line?
But it’s not just this, and it’s not just about myself either. I keep fearing that the more I put myself out there, the more chances bad actors will have to use my actions against me. I’d like to make YouTube videos, but I fear someone will use them to concoct some deep fakes and scam my loved ones. Maybe it’s not happening now, but what if, in a few years, somebody calls my mother with my voice (or my face) and asks for money? What if, by being present on the Internet as a full human, I’m participating in the blurring of the line between what’s real and fake?
Then I take a step back, and ask myself if all of this is even worth thinking about. I try to be cautious whenever I can, and remind myself that paranoia is a hell of a beast, and I don’t have to give into it.
But still. The fear is there, and I haven’t found a cure.