Blogging feels like a ghost town these days. What used to be the trendy new neighbourhood of the internet (think the Ossington strip in Toronto in 2015), the place where we traded ideas, shared our messy drafts of life, and argued in the comments section, has now been paved over by endless streams of short videos, polished images, and algorithm-fed “content.” If blogging isn’t already six feet under, it’s definitely being lowered into the ground as we scroll.
So why am I here, tapping away on a keyboard, writing words destined to be read by only a handful of people (if that)? Because this feels more real.
The internet has shifted toward pictures, then videos, and now AI-churned slop that can be consumed in seconds. Every new post has to be flashier, trendier, more optimized. But with every layer of polish, something raw and human gets stripped away. Blogging, in all its imperfect, long-winded, typo-ridden glory, reminds me of a simpler and more honest time.
Back then, we didn’t write for reach. We wrote for the modest satisfaction of articulation. Words arranged in paragraphs, rather than compressed into captions or spliced into clips, encourage a kind of engagement that is contemplative rather than reactive. A blog wasn’t a performance; it was a place. A small corner of the internet you could paint however you wanted. A place where people could stumble across your thoughts, not because the algorithm decided they should, but because they went looking. That slower, less performative rhythm feels humble in comparison to the neon speed of today’s feeds.
Blogging isn’t sexy anymore. It’s not lucrative, it’s not viral, and it won’t land me on anyone’s “For You” page. And that’s exactly why I’m coming back to it. As digital platforms trend ever more toward spectacle, the act of writing in a quiet corner of the web takes on a humble quality. Writing here feels like walking into an old coffee shop when the world has moved on to delivery apps. The workers still smile when taking your order, the menu is simple, yet familiar, and the conversations are real.
So yes, blogging may be half-buried, but maybe that’s the perfect place for something honest to grow again.

