The Internet Has Lost Its Weirdness

I sometimes miss the strange corners of the internet.

Not because they were necessarily useful or beautifully designed, but because they felt personal. The early web was full of odd little websites built by people who simply wanted to make something. There were fan sites, niche forums, experimental projects and blogs that looked like they had been designed entirely for an audience of one.

Finding them felt like an adventure. You would follow a link from one site to another, gradually disappearing down a rabbit hole of interests you never knew existed. The internet felt less like a product and more like a place.

Today, much of that weirdness has disappeared.

The modern internet is dominated by a surprisingly small number of platforms. Most of our time online is spent inside social networks, video platforms and algorithmic feeds designed to maximise engagement. Instead of wandering through thousands of unique destinations, we scroll through an endless stream of content delivered inside the same handful of interfaces.

Everything feels more connected than ever before, yet somehow less diverse.

Part of the problem is that success online has become measurable. Views, likes, followers and engagement rates have created strong incentives for people to make what works rather than what interests them. When everyone is chasing the same metrics, content begins to converge. The same opinions, formats, aesthetics and trends get repeated because the platforms reward familiarity.

Even websites have started to feel the same.

As a designer, I spend a lot of time looking at websites and it's remarkable how often they follow identical patterns. The same layouts. The same stock photography. The same testimonials. The same copywriting formulas. Much of it is effective, but very little of it is surprising.

The internet used to feel like a collection of people. Increasingly, it feels like a collection of optimised businesses.

Of course, some of this is inevitable. The web is no longer a niche hobby populated by enthusiasts. It's critical infrastructure for communication, commerce and entertainment. The stakes are higher now, and businesses naturally gravitate towards what has already been proven to work.

But I think something valuable has been lost along the way.

The strange websites, personal blogs and niche communities weren't important because they generated revenue. They were important because they reflected individual curiosity. They made the web feel human. They reminded us that the internet wasn't just a marketplace. It was also a place for experimentation, creativity and self-expression.

The encouraging thing is that these spaces haven't disappeared entirely. They're just harder to find.

Independent blogs still exist. Personal websites still exist. Small communities still exist. Every so often, you stumble across a website that feels genuinely different and it reminds you what the internet used to feel like. Not polished. Not optimised. Just interesting.

Maybe that's why I've started writing more on my own website.

Not because I expect thousands of people to read it. Not because it's the most efficient way to grow an audience. But because there's something refreshing about publishing thoughts in a space that isn't controlled by an algorithm. A place that feels owned rather than rented.

The internet hasn't completely lost its weirdness.

We've just buried it beneath layers of optimisation.

The challenge is being curious enough to go looking for it again.