I saw this link the other day and honestly, my first reaction was, “Wait, what?” It’s a page from some author’s profile over at helpsqiuwhite.com, and it got me thinking about something I’ve been chewing on for a while now \u2014 how we decide who’s worth listening to online.<\/p>\n
Okay, so picture this. I’m curled up on my couch on a Sunday night, tea in hand, laptop on my knees, doing that thing where you fall down a rabbit hole of random websites. You know the drill. One click leads to another, and suddenly I’m on a page that’s just… a list of articles by someone I’ve never heard of. And I caught myself doing the thing I always do \u2014 scanning for signs that this person is “legit.”<\/p>\n
Follower count. Bio. What they write about. Whether their photo looks like a stock image. Whether their name sounds like a real human or a bot. It’s exhausting, honestly. And it made me realize how much of my reading life is spent in this weird state of suspicion.<\/p>\n
I remember a few years ago, I found a blog about simple living that I absolutely loved. The writer felt like a friend \u2014 warm, funny, self-deprecating in the best way. I read her for months. Then one day I noticed something odd: her “personal” stories kept contradicting each other. The cabin in the woods became a city apartment. The rescue dog changed breeds. Nothing huge, but enough that I felt a little… duped.<\/p>\n
I closed the tab and never went back. But here’s the thing \u2014 I still think about her sometimes. Not because I’m mad, but because I wonder what was real and what wasn’t. Was she a real person behind all that? Or was she a team of writers churning out content designed to hit my emotional buttons?<\/p>\n
And the honest answer is: I’ll never know. That’s the internet for you.<\/p>\n
Now I’m not saying every anonymous writer is a scam. Far from it. Some of the most honest, helpful content I’ve ever read came from people with no profile picture and a username like “quietthinker1987.” But I’ve learned to read differently. I look for:<\/p>\n
It’s not a perfect system. But it helps.<\/p>\n
Here’s what really got me, though. That author profile page? It wasn’t even about the content. It was just a directory listing \u2014 a bunch of links to articles, no context, no personality. And I realized that this is what so much of the web looks like now. Just… lists. Names attached to nothing. Words with no one behind them.<\/p>\n
It made me miss the old days of blogging. Remember when people had “About Me” pages with awkward selfies and lists of their favorite books? When you could tell someone was a real human because they overshared about their cat’s vet visit or their disastrous attempt at sourdough?<\/p>\n
I’m not nostalgic for dial-up internet or anything. But I am nostalgic for that feeling of connection. Of reading something and thinking, “Oh, this person gets it. This person is like me.”<\/p>\n
And maybe that’s why I write the way I do. Why I tell you about my messy kitchen and my half-finished projects and the time I cried in the grocery store parking lot because they were out of my favorite oat milk. Because I want you to know there’s a real person here. Not a content machine. Not a brand. Just me, typing away, hoping something I say lands.<\/p>\n
So when I land on a page like that author profile \u2014 just a name and a list of links \u2014 I feel a little sad. Not for me. For whoever wrote those articles. Because they might be wonderful. They might have something real to say. But without a face, without a voice, without a story, they’re just… words on a screen.<\/p>\n
I guess what I want to say is this: be a person. If you write, write like a person. If you read, read like you’re looking for a person. And if you find someone who feels real \u2014 who makes you laugh or think or feel a little less alone \u2014 hold onto them. Subscribe to their newsletter. Leave a comment. Tell them they matter.<\/p>\n
Because the internet is full of lists and links and anonymous names. But it’s also full of people. And the people are the whole point.<\/p>\n
I don’t know who wrote those articles on that page I stumbled across. I probably never will. But I hope they’re okay. I hope they’re writing something real somewhere, even if this particular corner of the web doesn’t show it.<\/p>\n
And I hope you know that you’re real to me. Every time you read, every time you nod along, every time you think, “Oh thank god, it’s not just me” \u2014 that’s connection. That’s the good stuff.<\/p>\n
So here’s to being human on the internet. Messy, inconsistent, occasionally cringe, but real. That’s all any of us can do. \ud83e\udd0d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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