Growing up on the internet without being on the internet

I grew up in a certain kind of lifestyle. A lifestyle where December was exciting not because of the holidays but because of Vlogmas. A lifestyle where I knew what time it was in Australia at any given moment of the day even though I was born and raised in a small town in Pennsylvania, all so that I knew what time to tune in to watch the new 5 Seconds of Summer livestream. A lifestyle where I dreamt of being in a relationship so that I could post a “My Boyfriend Does My Makeup” tag. A lifestyle where every day except for Sunday was exciting because it meant a new O2L video. I knew Claudia Sulewski as beyondbeautystar/beyondbeautystartv and Maddi Bragg as madisonrosebeauty1 and Amanda Steele as makeupbymandy24 and Megan Parken as meganheartsmakeup. I was obsessed with a world of beautiful teenage girls donning Mac lipsticks and Juicy Couture sweatsuits and filming makeup collections that would give Marie Kondo a heart attack.

You could say I was in this world, this “internet world,” but as much as I was, I wasn’t. Because while I watched every video in my subscriptions feed religiously and spent most of my nights throughout my early teens sitting in my bedroom, talking to a mirror, pretending like I was filming a Q&A or a makeup routine, I was too timid to ever actually turn on the camera, record myself, and post it. Even though I knew every One Direction song by heart and where they were born, down to the name of the hospital, I didn’t have the money or the friends to go to a single one of their concerts. I didn’t have many friends and rarely had Friday night plans. But I also didn’t have many followers on my fan accounts or any close internet friends.

My whole adolescence was a tug-of-war between two worlds, a constant push and pull to try to find a space I felt like I belonged in, only to come up empty-handed every time.

My friends now talk about how they “grew up on the internet,” and while I agree vehemently with that declaration, I feel like I'm lying at the same time.

At the time, no one could foresee how posting on the internet could not only turn into a career, but a career that would lead to more money and fame and status than many of the more traditionally known routes to stardom. For so long, it seemed to be a hobby, a trend, a fad. And, then suddenly, seemingly overnight, it became the defining characteristic of an entire generation. It’s impossible not to wonder if my life would be drastically different today if I was brave enough to post on the internet before it was common or “cool.” Even if nothing ever came from my 14 year old self posting low-quality Youtube videos, I still wish I had so that I could have them to look back on now. At the very least, it would have been something concrete to hold on to. Something real to show the people around me. Proof that I existed and that I still do exist. I wish I hadn’t filmed videos of myself and then immediately deleted them because I thought they were too cringey. I wish someone had shook me and screamed “YOU’RE ALLOWED TO BE CRINGE AT 14! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE CRINGE AT 14!!”

It’s also impossible, at least for me, to look at the people who achieved fame from the internet and not factor in how much of an important variable privilege is. I’m not trying to whine or blame my own lack of internet fame on the fact that I didn’t grow up wealthy because that’s absurd and inaccurate. But at the same time, it’s absurd to not acknowledge its importance. The teenage girls who went to multiple One Direction concerts on a singular tour, the fans who attended VidCon, BeautyCon, and Playlist Live numerous times did so because they could. Their parents had the money to take them, and equally important, were willing to take them. Willing to get on flights, drive several hours, wait in long lines in varying climates. And like in every society, there grew a clear divide between these fans and the fans who could only dream about meeting their favorite Youtubers or hugging the band member who saved their life. 

Now, content creation and social media has gone from something you were likely to be made fun of for to something that is not only normal, but something that is necessary for many people, specifically anyone who chooses to go down a creative path. My best friend Brittany Deitch wrote about this and about internet fame as a whole in her first Substack post, and in a much more eloquent way than I ever could. One of the things she said that stuck with me in particular is that it's possible that all the space for “22 year old, retired Internet girls to write about the world and their lives” has already been taken up. 

I wonder if this gives you a good sense of my voice

Reading that struck such a deep chord for me, and I’ve been thinking about that line a lot. And about space. The space to exist both online and in real life. Because the days pass by, and I get older, and Emma Chamberlin attends another Met Gala, and a new rosy-faced 16 year old gets the things I wanted. But that’s just it, it’s stuff I wanted. As in, in the past. Truth is, I don’t even know what I want anymore. I wish I did. Even if it was some far-fetched dream like becoming a Disney Channel star or winning an Oscar or any of the things I wanted so badly as a kid. Because I feel like I knew myself more then. Or maybe I’m just unlearning what I used to know about myself and learning new stuff. And maybe that’s all life is. An endless cycle of knowing yourself, changing, and then relearning. Hey, there’s worse ways to live.

(And I just found out about Eileen Kelly so there’s not even space for it girls with BPD anymore!)

Maybe there’s no more space left to grow up on the internet. I know there’s still space to grow up in real life. Or at least I hope there is. But lately it’s been feeling more and more distant. Every night spent crying listening to music I loved in middle schools feels like it should be the last. Like okay, we get it you’re sad girl. Move on already, you’re not 14 anymore. And thank god for that! I hated 14. Maybe I would have hated it less if I had my feet firmly planted in one world, instead of constantly wavering between the two. But then I wouldn’t be here right now, writing this post.