Growing up with the Internet
Written By Danny Sharp
February 28, 2024
I was born in 1999, young enough that I can’t remember a time when the internet didn’t exist on instant command. I think humans never evolved to grow and mature with access to every world tragedy and information on every monster, but there are benefits to that too. I’ve seen things I never wanted to see, but I also saw things I needed to see. I want to reflect on that, and I think some of you reading might find this relatable.
Era 1 (2005-2010): Home desktop
My first memories of the internet are in my childhood home’s basement. A dusty bookshelf faced a gray-and-teal desktop, next to a tall stack of educational CD-ROMs. My sister introduced me to YouTube classics such as laughing babies, startled cats, farting pandas, a strange screaming child named Fred, CGI talking eggs, a grumpy unicorn, and other videos along those lines. Our primary goal was to laugh. If my sister found it funny, then I did too, even if I actually found it creepy or incomprehensible. One place where I didn’t blindly adopt her opinions was Club Penguin, something I loved despite my sister’s constant insults.
“Odder still, my first instinct was not to express myself with my human face, but with the virtual chat”
I also fell in love on Club Penguin. I asked a boy, Sethwashere, to be my boyfriend, and he said yes! We went on a dinner date, as in we sat across from each other at a fancy table and spammed the heart emote at each other. Eventually he said he had to go eat dinner, but he’d be back soon. I waited and waited, but my love never came back. I sat back at the table and wailed his name in chat, begging him to come back. I can look back now and giggle a little at how legitimately heartbroken I was, but it still strikes me as odd that my first playground breakup happened with a little cartoon bird. Odder still, my first instinct was not to express myself with my human face, but with the virtual chat and crying emoticons in an empty room. I can especially laugh at how my sister walked into the room and asked me what was wrong, so I whimpered “Seth-wash-ear is gone!” I refused to believe her when she corrected me on his name.
Anyway if you’re reading this Seth, reach out, I don’t think you ever properly broke up with Micky12134.
Era 2 (2011-2013): iBook G4
I asked for a laptop for Christmas because my love of writing was outgrowing my school notebooks. I got a used iBook, and I mainly wrote using the “Pages” function. It was a little bare-bones, but it worked. The internet ticked along on it with all the speed of an elderly millipede, so I didn’t have the resources to adventure forth and download ill-advised programs. Writing this now, I don’t think that was on purpose on my mother’s part, but it would have been genius if so.
The farthest I explored were suggestions on my sister’s part, like always. I played a lot of flash games, mostly escape room puzzles, problem-solving franchises, and various iterations of “get this object from point A to point ∞.” The endpoint of those games was usually boredom rather than a single story beat, which made it stick in my brain like a cut-off song. I only have vague memories of those escape rooms, but I sure as hell remember making penguins fly.
The other source of internet I can think of was Netflix on my father’s work computers. My family never paid babysitters during the school year, so that duty fell to my dad on snow days and breaks. As the owner of a printing business, he worked in a large warehouse with concrete floors (GREAT for Heelys, 10/10) occupied by Heisenberg presses and the smell of fresh ink. In the back was a typical office with a few cubicles and computers. I primarily remember the boredom.
When I wasn’t mesmerized by the presses or doing arts-and-crafts with paper clips, blue tape, and office printer paper, I would be on Netflix. With nary a parental control or content filter in sight, I was just let loose to discover their genres on my own time. In hindsight, I watched a lot of movies that I shouldn’t have at that age, such as The Human Centipede. The fact that the two main characters were naked for most of the film was already uncomfortable enough for me, so there were many times when I didn’t know where to look on the screen. Certainly not their breasts, but I didn’t want to look at their mutilated, stapled faces either. I don’t remember at all how the movie ends, but one of my core memories is a compilation of still frames from that film: blood, pus, infected sutures, sterile white home decor, and murderous glares.
It definitely taught me not to talk to strangers.
Era 3 (2014-2016): Vaio
I bought a new laptop that could actually use the internet with years of Christmas and birthday money. I could watch YouTube, listen to music, play the games I wanted, chat online, and combinations of all three. In the spirit of complete honesty, I should also mention the piracy and porn.
To this day all you need to watch something for free is to google it, but I’d advise a good ad blocker and anti-virus. One day my poor Vaio started speaking in tongues, and I do mean that literally. My poor, possessed computer spoke, sang, and screamed with dozens of voices at once. Like the wise teenager I was, I muted my laptop whenever the Hellmouth opened and ignored it until it started to crash, and only then did I tell my mom.
It went away after a virus scan, and she gave me a stern talking-to about going on the internet without McAfee on. I was lucky to get away with just a prank virus; I didn’t lose any files or have an identity worth stealing yet.
I was lucky in other ways, too. A classmate of mine, also AFAB, dealt with their crush on me by introducing some Google+ sexual roleplay chat groups we could peruse together, but it wasn't exclusive. While I can’t verify the ages of everyone in this very tweenaged crowd, I also can’t recall any attempts to groom me now that I recognize the signs; maybe a “you’re mature for your age” or two flew under my nose. I was careful not to tell strangers personal information about me, nor did I have any pictures of myself there.
The way I manifested myself into these groups gave me some clues as to who I really was. Not a lot of people in real life were stepping up to explain what being gay or trans was–aside from slinging insults around–so this friend opened the gate to a place filled with equally confused and closeted strangers, nevertheless excited to learn and consume. For obvious reasons in hindsight, I felt most comfortable playing as male characters. On the internet, whatever body I wanted was the one I had, which gave me just enough relief to repress and suffer my reality. I would do anything to see and think of my true body as little as possible.
No matter how much “practice” I’d gotten on the internet or what I’d roleplayed with my friend, my first real kiss with them still gave me butterflies in my stomach. Likewise, it wasn’t until I talked with a doctor years later that I adopted better, healthier ways of treating my body dysmorphia. For that reason, I don’t really believe that access to porn or outcasts--or combinations thereof-- steals innocence or materializes alternative identities in children. Innocence amplifies the impact of discovery, true, but mere fiction can’t replace reality.
It can inspire fear, however.
The internet taught me perspectives beyond my own in a safe and private way, but there weren’t any stories of this being a safe experience. Every time I thought about telling my parents, I remembered a post from a bisexual girl whose mother cut her face out of every family photo. Once I did come out, however, my father was supportive and my mother apathetic. Both asked what they’d ever done to make me think their love was conditional, or that my confession would make them angry, but I could only explain that I’d heard stories of children disowned, berated, beaten, tortured, and/or killed. I’d been exposed to such a high concentration of worst-case scenarios that secrecy felt safer than love.
To this day (especially with dating), I have to constantly ask myself if my fear of something is rational or just a byproduct of a thousand horror stories posted in viral video clips and Reddit forums.
Era 4 (2017-2020): Dell Inspiron
I went to some dark places in search of what else I was. Nothing was resonating perfectly, so I went to extremes. My first reaction to most of it was disgust. I found that if something is forbidden in any way, then it’s stimulating to someone. But in the rabbit holes I tumbled down, the disgust slowly softened into curiosity. Don’t get me wrong, I suffered plenty from marching past clear warning signs and sticking my nose into places I wasn’t ready for, but some of those websites had touches of the artists’ gentler selves. I remember their horrifying art, but I also remember a post apologizing for a lapse in activity as they mourned their beloved dog’s death. Persevering through medical troubles. Selfies of themselves–everyday unremarkable people–posing with loved ones. Stories of childhood exploration that sounded a lot like my own. Most strikingly, disgust for those who would disregard consent and hurt real people.
If anything, exploring places where consent and respect are so utterly essential taught me more about it than anywhere else. As a result, I find it difficult to clutch my pearls about any work of clearly-labeled art or fiction no matter how shocking. I’d like to think these depths of the internet reinforced a moral foundation based on empathy and kindness, rather than relying on a predetermined list of right vs wrong.
Era 5 (2021-2024): Asus ZenBook
I’m glad I found the courage to kiss my first partner. I’m glad I explored the dark and disgusting. I still struggle with what’s the appropriate amount of protection against a high density of tragic stories. Still, I’d like to think I’m turning out ok.
The internet has touched every aspect of modern life for better or worse, which in turn means my childhood was different in a notable way from generations before. As they say however, the more things change, the more they stay the same. I played, loved, learned, witnessed violence, and overall saw humans being humans. A fraction of my toys were electric and my education pixelated, but I don’t think that makes me (or newer generations for that matter) unique in the grand scope of the human race… maybe just a bit more anxious. Life is going to come as it always has, and I’ll use the tools at hand to learn, explore, and improve as I go.
Written by: Danny Sharp
About the Author:
Danny (they/them) is an intern for the editorial team. They love to read, write, and review bad fiction, and they especially love to torture their friends with any gems they find.
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