I’m in 2025, sitting with an excellent coffee (thanks for asking) in front of a real computer. Keyboard. Mouse. Monitor. No tablet, no phone, no slick voice assistant calling me “Zia” while trying to buy my soul. Just me—and a video that reminded me how much I miss the old internet, and how much the current one grates.
Back Then We Had More Tinsel. And More 404s.
The video says what I’ve been thinking for years: the internet is done. Game over. It no longer feels like a place; it’s a conveyor belt flinging the same loveless, AI-flavored mush. Cookie banners here, pop-ups there, autoplay ads with sound (!), and content that reads like it was written by ChatGPT’s duller sister.
I hate to admit it, but I’ve got a sister like that, too. Her name is SEO.
Cue the “Dead Internet Theory”: we’re surfing a web that isn’t alive. Websites feel like ghost towns. Comment sections are overrun by bots and SEO bros. More and more often I catch myself asking: Is this still a person—or just another affiliate link?
The Wild, Wonderful WWW
I’m a ’90s kid. My first modem sounded like a Dalek with the hiccups. And yet—maybe because of it—the internet felt like paradise for people who preferred writing to talking.
There were forums with real debates. Chats where people knew each other—or at least said a decent hello before asking for nudes. (Yes, it happened then too—but you had to earn your indecency.)
And websites? Exploded rainbows in Comic Sans, but they were real. Handmade. Loved. With link lists! (I recently tried explaining what a “link list” was. It ended in tears. Mine.)
Today: Clean, Slick, Same—and So. Much. Worse.
I still build websites. And—like everyone else’s—they look like sterile Apple billboards. White space, pastels, hero images.
The copy? Optimized for Google. For short attention spans and ranking fetishes. I’m no longer writing for humans; I’m writing for machines that decide whether humans get to see my words at all.
And honestly? I hate it.
Now What?
I could shout, “Delete the internet! Bring back the carrier pigeons!” But we both know that’s not happening.
So I’m doing this instead: writing. Here. On my blog. For me. For you. For the few souls still tunneling through click hell and cookie walls to find something real.
If that’s you: welcome. You’re not alone.