Excerpt from this article:
People mean something specific when they complain about the internet — they’re sick of the social media overwhelm, of refreshing feeds in the toilet or stealthily under dinner tables. This year, there’s even more to be sick of: fake news, ugly arguments in the comments, the incoming president’s bizarre, misspelled, inflammatory Twitter feed.
Peak social media has effectively staged a coup on my preferred means of self-expression. When I was younger I had private journals online, anonymous friends to chat about music with, and multiple different screen names (remember those?). Beyond longing for a simpler time, though, it’s that I don’t remember ever having been a person who prized arbitrary “sharing,” in the social sense, to the extent that I do now.
Recently I noticed it took great effort not to post a joke I thought of in the shower on Twitter. I should Tweet this, I thought, and then wondered why I felt the need to share it at all. If a Tweet falls in the shower and no one is around to RT, was it really that good a thought? What a strange way to live, constantly commodifying one’s own inner world.