You want human?
You want creepy?
You want that âwhat-the-f***-did-I-just-read-why-is-my-camera light onâ kind of vibe?
Cool. Iâm not giving you a blog.
Iâm giving you a late-night overshare. The kind that starts as a rant and ends with you sleeping with your phone facedown and the lights on.
This is gonna feel like a ghost story.
But worse.
Because itâs real.
đ the internet is haunted. and itâs haunting you.
Iâm not okay, dude.
Not after what Iâve seen.
Not after what I felt.
This isnât just about the creepy side of the internet.
It’s about something worse.
Something⊠parasitic.
Alive, somehow. Feeding. Watching. Mimicking.
You think Iâm being dramatic?
Cool. I did too.
Then I looked it in the eyes â and I swear it blinked back.
đ§ it hears you when youâre alone.
I used to talk to myself when no one was home.
You knowâstupid sh*t. Like âugh I need to cleanâ or âI should get a burrito.â
Didnât Google it. Didnât text it. Just said it.
Out loud. In my room.
And every. Single. Time.
Iâd open my phone and BAM â
ads for cleaning hacks. Burrito discounts.
Even a YouTube video titled: âHow To Organize Your Room If Youâre Depressed.â
Tell me thatâs not weird.
Tell me that doesnât feel like somethingâs listening.
And the scariest part?
You said yes to it.
When you downloaded that weather app.
When you clicked âallow mic access.â
You opened the door.
You invited it in.
đłïž the algorithm isnât code. itâs a mirror. and youâre inside it.
I once went through a breakup. Bad one.
Didnât post about it. Didnât tell many people.
Just cried. Quietly. Alone.
That night? My feed was heartbreak quotes.
The next day? Tarot card TikToks predicting âa return.â
The week after? Couples breaking up in slow motion.
I hadnât searched ANYTHING.
Not even once.
But somehow â it knew.
It knew I was hurting.
And it decided to keep me there.
Because sadness = screen time.
And screen time = food for the machine.
Thatâs when I stopped thinking of the algorithm like some helpful code.
Itâs not.
Itâs alive.
And it wants to trap you in your worst version of yourself.
Because thatâs where youâre easiest to control.
đ· you donât own your face anymore.
I found a deepfake of someone once.
Someone real. A girl I used to go to school with.
She was in a video she never filmed.
Saying words she never said.
Doing things sheâd never do.
It wasnât just disturbing.
It was⊠convincing.
Too convincing.
Her smile. Her laugh. Her voice.
Stolen. Replicated. Played back like a possession.
She tried to take it down.
It was already everywhere.
Downloaded. Reuploaded.
Her digital ghost, cursed to live online forever.
And I just stood there thinking:
This could be any of us.
Your selfies. Your voice notes. Your Instagram stories.
Youâre training the thing that might one day become you â without your consent.
đ» the internet has a basement. and youâre already in it.
You ever go just a bit too far into Reddit?
Click one too many âNSFWâ subs?
Watch one of those âwhatâs on the dark webâ videos on YouTube and suddenly the air feels heavier?
Yeah. That.
That feeling like somethingâs looking at you through the screen.
Thatâs not paranoia.
Thatâs instinct.
Because there is something.
There are corners of the internet that shouldnât exist.
Places where people trade horror like currency.
Where photos are stolen.
Where lives are ruined.
Where identities are bought and sold like candy.
And the worst part?
You donât have to visit those places to be touched by them.
They already scraped your data.
They already archived your face.
They already know your name.
Youâve been here the whole time.
In the basement.
You just didnât notice the lights flickering.
đ§ this thing doesnât just watch you. itâs inside you.
I thought the internet was a tool.
Then I realized I canât go 15 minutes without checking a notification.
I scroll when Iâm bored.
When Iâm anxious.
When Iâm trying to escape.
But itâs always there.
Waiting.
Feeding me content that feels too specific.
Like itâs reading my mind.
Like itâs studying me.
Like it knows what Iâll click before I do.
You ever open your phone and forget why?
You ever find yourself watching something you didnât mean to?
You ever feel like your thoughts arenât yours anymore?
Yeah.
Thatâs not just you.
Thatâs the thing.
Inside you.
Rewiring. Reprogramming.
Bit by bit.
đȘŠ you die twice. once in life. once online.
Even when youâre gone… youâre not.
Your Facebook stays up.
Your Google data remains.
Old tweets. DMs. Emails. Photos you forgot existed.
It all lingers.
Like a ghost.
A copy.
A version of you that doesnât know youâre dead yet.
And if someone wanted to…
They could bring you back.
Fake your voice. Animate your face.
Make you say things you never said.
There is no resting in peace here.
There is only being repurposed.
đ« so yeah… sleep tight.
I donât know why I wrote this.
Maybe just to get it out of my system.
Maybe so youâd feel it too.
But if youâre reading this at night â
and your room feels just a little colder â
and your phone screen just flickered for no reason â
and youâre thinking, ânah, thatâs just in my headâ â
Itâs not.
You brought it here.
It knows youâre awake now.
Anyway.
Iâm turning off my phone.
Putting tape back on my webcam.
And sleeping with the light on tonight.
You should too.
âïžđïžđ
Wanna go even darker?
Wanna write the second part of this internet horror story?
Say the word.
We’ll go deeper.
But don’t blame me when you can’t scroll without flinching.
I also Share my story When I get Creepy thing on my Instagram and literally next 10 minutes I wass frozen but don’t worry I will freeze you to stay Tune đ„¶ and to be continue ….
