From Curiosity to Clarity: What I Learned Studying People Online

When I decided to join several social media platforms, my goal was simple: I wanted to observe people. As a writer, I thought it would be the perfect way to gather insights, understand different personalities, and maybe even find inspiration for my novels. After all, where better to study human behavior than the internet, where people often show parts of themselves they might never reveal in real life?

At first, it was fascinating. I saw communities forming around hobbies, people bonding over shared struggles, and the raw honesty that comes when people feel they’re speaking into the void. But then, I noticed another side of it, one that left me uneasy.

Some spaces online felt overwhelmingly heavy. People would post about wanting to end their lives as casually as if they were sharing what they had for lunch. Others overshared painful details, even posting pictures of bruises in certain groups. And then there was the constant drama, arguments, callouts, and emotional explosions playing out in front of an audience.

And, of course, there were those who lied just to get attention. It was hard to ignore the exaggerated stories, the suspicious confessions, and the way some people thrived on sympathy. While I can understand the need for connection, it made me realize how easy it is to blur the line between truth and performance online.

It made me feel bad for them, because underneath all the noise, what I saw were lonely people who just wanted someone to listen. And yet, it also made me realize: this isn’t my crowd. As much as I want to understand people, I also know I need to protect my own energy and mental space.

What I took away from this experience is that social media is a double-edged sword. It can be a window into the human experience, beautiful, raw, and inspiring, but it can also be a place where sadness, isolation, and chaos echo loudly. As a writer, I’ll continue to observe, but with more intention about where I choose to linger. Some stories I can use for my work, but not every story is mine to carry.

And maybe that’s the most important lesson I learned: empathy is powerful, but boundaries are necessary.