The Swamp

Ten years in this swamp and I’ve watched it metastasize. I came in through whatever was popular at the time and got dragged deeper with each new platform. I told myself it would get better. That people would figure out how to use this stuff for something real. But that was just denial.

Here’s what I can’t unsee: everyone thinks they matter. Everyone’s convinced that their breakfast, their traffic jam, their feelings about whoever’s on TV right now—that this is content. That the world is waiting to hear it. And the platforms have engineered it so the second you post, you get proof that you were right. Likes. Comments. Shares. A little hit of validation that says yes, you matter, keep going. It’s a perfect machine for making people dumber and more convinced of their own importance simultaneously.

The thing that actually made me want to scream was watching smart people get pulled in. People I respected, whose actual thoughts I wanted to hear—I watched them learn the game. Stop saying something interesting because it won’t perform. Start saying whatever gets engagement. Kill the thoughtful stuff because it’s slow. Lean into the hot takes, the outrage, the performance. And I realized it wasn’t weakness. It was contagious. Stay in that environment long enough and you start to optimize for it without even noticing.

The system is designed to destroy anyone who uses it. And the worst part is it works. We’re all becoming worse versions of ourselves, and the platforms are getting richer, and nobody seems to mind because at least we’re all doing it together.

I could just leave. Log off, delete the apps, opt out. But that’s not actually an option either—then you’re just outside of every conversation, every connection, every piece of information that actually matters. You become a ghost. So staying in is poison and leaving is isolation.

Some mornings I think the only sane move is to just stop fighting it. Accept that this is how people communicate now. Stop trying to maintain some standard and just post like everyone else. Become part of the swamp instead of standing at the edge of it, horrified. At least that way I wouldn’t have to watch anymore.

But I know where that ends. And the only thing worse than being in a swamp is knowing exactly what you’re swimming in and deciding to do it anyway.