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The Dark Side of Social Media Algorithms
A narrative about control, curiosity, and the invisible hands shaping what we see.
Opening — The Hook: It started with a single video—funny, harmless, the kind you share without thinking. Then came another, and another, each one a little sharper, a little louder, until the feed felt like a river pulling me under. I wasn’t scrolling anymore. I was sinking.
The Turning Point
One night, I looked up from my phone and realized two hours had vanished. My tea was cold, my to-do list untouched. The algorithm had learned me—my humor, my fears, my late-night cravings for distraction. It didn’t just know what I liked; it knew what would keep me there. That was the turning point: when I understood the feed wasn’t a mirror. It was a magnet.
The Conflict
The conflict wasn’t just time lost; it was trust eroded. I told myself I was in control, that I could stop anytime. But every swipe felt like a coin toss in a slot machine—maybe the next post would be the one. The algorithm didn’t shout; it whispered, curating outrage and delight in equal measure. It fed me what I wanted, then what I feared, then what I didn’t know I needed until I couldn’t look away.
Rising Action
I started noticing patterns: friends I hadn’t seen in months buried under ads, voices I trusted drowned out by noise. My world shrank to fit the frame of my screen. The algorithm rewarded my clicks with more of the same, building walls disguised as windows. I wasn’t exploring anymore; I was orbiting a planet of my own biases, polished and fed back to me in endless loops.
Climax
The breaking point came during a heated debate online. I was certain—absolutely certain—that everyone agreed with me. Then I stepped outside, into a conversation that shattered my certainty like glass. The real world was messier, louder, full of contradictions my feed had filtered out. That night, I stared at the glowing screen and wondered: Was I choosing my beliefs, or were they being chosen for me?
Resolution
I didn’t delete my accounts. I changed the rules. I turned off autoplay, followed voices I disagreed with, set timers that forced me to look up. It wasn’t easy—the algorithm doesn’t like to be ignored—but slowly, the grip loosened. I learned that freedom online isn’t about logging out; it’s about logging in with intent.
“When you don’t choose what you see, you stop choosing what you believe.”
Closing Thought & Implicit Moral
Algorithms aren’t evil; they’re efficient. But efficiency without ethics is a trap. The feed will always flow toward engagement, not enlightenment. If we want truth, we have to swim against the current.
Question to the reader: When was the last time you scrolled by choice—and not by design?