The Internet, It Seems, Has Fallen Ill: Why Our Digital World Feels So Much Worse These Days

There’s a feeling many of us share these days, isn’t there? A quiet, persistent hum of dissatisfaction when we scroll, when we search, when we simply try to navigate the vast, shimmering expanse we call the internet. It’s not just you, honestly. That nagging sense that things have gotten… well, worse? That the digital world, for all its dazzling new apps and ever-present connectivity, has lost some vital spark, some intrinsic quality it once possessed.

Consider the humble search engine, for instance. A place we once relied upon for instant, almost magical access to information. Now? Now it often feels like wading through a digital swamp. You type in a query, hopeful, and are frequently met with an overwhelming deluge of SEO-optimized fluff, thinly veiled advertisements, and content so generic it might as well have been churned out by a robot — oh, wait, much of it actually is. The authentic, the insightful, the genuinely useful — those nuggets seem harder and harder to unearth, buried beneath layers of commercial intent and algorithmic manipulation. It's not a conspiracy, per se, but it sure feels like an erosion of trust.

This isn't an accident, you could say. It's a symptom of a larger, more systemic issue, brilliantly articulated by writer Cory Doctorow as "enshittification." A rather blunt term, perhaps, but strikingly accurate. It describes a process where digital platforms, eager to grow, first offer incredible value to their users. Think of early Facebook, or even TikTok for a while, vibrant and seemingly user-driven. But then, once those users are locked in, the platform starts to extract more and more value from them, degrading the experience. Next, it turns to the businesses and creators who rely on it, demanding more — for less reach, for fewer genuine connections. The cycle continues, ultimately leaving everyone, save the platform owners, feeling exploited and the overall quality diminished. It’s a race to the bottom, and we, the users, are often left holding the empty bag.

And social media, ah, social media. What began, for many, as a way to connect with friends, family, or even total strangers over shared interests, has transmogrified. Where are those vibrant, slightly messy online communities we once cherished? Replaced, in large part, by curated feeds brimming with sponsored content, influencer marketing, and algorithmically pushed "professional" posts. It's less about genuine human interaction and more about consumption, about being perpetually marketed to. You scroll, and scroll, but rarely do you stumble upon that truly surprising, genuinely unique piece of content or a conversation that genuinely sparks joy or thought. The serendipity, the pure delight of accidental discovery, feels almost entirely gone, doesn't it?

In truth, the internet has become less of a wild, exploratory landscape and more of a meticulously manicured corporate park. Every path laid out, every bench strategically placed, every "natural" feature subtly designed to funnel you toward a specific commercial outcome. We miss the wildness, the untamed corners, the places where real people simply were, creating and sharing without the crushing weight of monetization always looming. The feeling isn’t just nostalgia, you see. It’s a recognition that something fundamental, something profoundly human, has been chipped away from our digital commons.

So, when you next find yourself frustrated by an unhelpful search result or an endlessly bland social media feed, take heart. It’s not a personal failing on your part. It’s a widely felt disillusionment, a silent acknowledgment that the internet, in many ways, has indeed gotten worse. And perhaps, just perhaps, acknowledging this shared experience is the first step toward demanding something better, something more akin to the vibrant, messy, truly human digital world we once knew, and perhaps still yearn for.