Not too long ago, the internet was a place you visited. The family desktop sat in a closet, and schools had computer rooms where students gathered to hop online. Access required intention—clicking through HTML pages, flipping virtual 'book' interfaces, and logging off to disconnect.

Today, the internet is a panopticon, always on, always tracking. We’ve lost the threshold between online and offline, with infinite scroll and algorithmic feeds eroding focus and privacy. The 1990s-2000s web had physicality: neighborhoods like GeoCities’ ‘Hollywood’ or ‘Area51’ created localized communities.

Platforms shut down these spaces, replacing them with endless feeds. This shift dissolved the internet’s boundaries, merging it into our pockets and minds. Surveillance capitalism now shapes behavior, fracturing attention and deepening anxiety.

Recovery demands reintroducing thresholds: confining devices to rooms, scheduling screen-free sabbaths, and rebuilding embodied community. The internet wasn’t meant to be an omnipresent force but a place we choose to enter—on our terms.