zfaust
Thirties
in Manhattan
I’m burned out from being constantly online. The constant scrolling, liking, subscribing led me nowhere but down the paths of doomscrolling, dry eyes, and constant consumerism.
The beast demanded more, more, more, and I have nothing left to give.
In an era where attention is the new economy I no longer desire to offer up my gaze in exchange for a cheap hit of dopamine.
With every social media network relying on this model I have nowhere else to really go to share my own thoughts, creations, and stories.
It seems like the only true solution is to create a website of my own. A space to unload these seemingly random ideas from my head.
Although I loath the economics, ethics, and morality of these tech conglomerates, I don’t want to not be online.
I love the freedom and accessibilty to me that it provides my friends and family (and even strangers who may see my name in passing).
I’m just exhausted by corporate censorship (wtf created “unalived?”), manipulated by deceptive patterns, and barraged by ad after ad after ad.
This is my attempt at a return of an internet from when I was a teen. The Wild West of shitposting as I experiment with removing my presence from mainstream social media.