Creating my personal online void

It’s been a few years since I think people have felt truly seen on social media (excluding TikTokers, maybe). There have been jokes about yelling into the void for as long as I can remember, but now with the uncertainty of Twitter and the algorithms of Instagram, there seems to be more of a sense of isolation.

Instead of a sense of community, and of conversation, it feels like standing in a room of people where everyone announces what they’re doing or thinking, then switch off.

I recently noticed something similar happening in a few group chats I was part of. Even among people who called themselves friends, there was a pattern emerging of people posting their own thoughts while ignoring or glossing over the posts of others.

When deciding to return to writing my own personal blog, I initially was unsure because I knew “nobody” would read it. By posting on a website that doesn’t get baseline traffic the way social media– or even platforms like Substack– do, it feels like you’re automatically reducing your reach.

But then, what kind of reach are you getting on social media anyway? Hell, what kind of reach are you getting if you post in your fave group chat and it’s ignored?

The way I see it, the way we communicate online has become a void on all sides. It’s a black hole.

So, I could shout into the emptiness of Twitter. Or I could post photos into the vacuum of the Instagram algorithm. (And let’s be real, I’ll probably still do both anyway.)

Better yet, I can make my own online void.

The difference is that it’s intentional. It’s less ephemeral. And it’s my space (not MySpace). I’m not forcing my existence upon anyone. I’m not taking up space on someone else’s terms. I can create a space that is purely about my own expression and wellbeing.

And instead of feeling like I’m jumping up and down, screaming for attention, I can use that energy toward quality one-on-one interactions with the people I care about.

So, welcome to my personal online void.

Yes, voids can be pink.