Read on Twitter
it's so hard to thread the line between intimacy and strangeness online with people you follow for longer periods because the constant interaction online may seem like a personal bond
reading their inner dialogue might feel like conversation, like glimpses into people's identity and personhood and it just... isn't. it's a persona, it's a fractioned view of self, its a retelling of life through their own eyes under 240 characters
it's a well constructed lie. its common courtesy that we sustain the belief that the internet is still the land of the strangeness and most truthful in all of us, it isn't.
and reading our inner-outer dialogue, our performative diary entries does not equal conversation.
and reading our inner-outer dialogue, our performative diary entries does not equal conversation.
does not equal genuine human connection, which can't be forced, can't be faked or can't be imagined. it's real or it's simply not.
for the creation of those, we've got dms.
come on through.
for the creation of those, we've got dms.
come on through.
all this forgetting to mention that our lives on the web are so clearly cut from audience to audience that even partaking in a special experience requires consent. not everything is for everyone simply because it's online.
not everyone is on demand online, either. to teach, listen, explain or entertain.
not everything is accessible.
not everything is accessible.
