Does our existence on a social media platform have the lifespan of a dog (10-13 years) or a person (72.6 years) or a palm tree (80 years)? I guess we don’t know because the end has not been written in the code, instead it’s something we feel in our bones – the time when it’s over.
On Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn and Instagram – platforms where many people have been for a decade or more – much of the user experience feels distinctly middle-aged right now. The design of these platforms is as familiar, comforting and loathsome to us as the interior of our own homes (this is boring! Don’t you dare change it!) and the invisible hand of the algorithm like a trick that no longer seems fresh but instead feels manipulative and is received with resentment and an eyeroll. Even the arguments on the platforms have the spite and stalemate of a toxic marriage. There’s the sense of having heard it all before, where everything is predictable and even your triggers, your rage, your disgust and your excitement feels reheated and tired. And then there’s you, your other self, the avatar that you drag through the timelines, shackled like a hungry ghost, that feels most tired of all.
