I came back to the internet recently after a long absence. Long enough that I’d forgotten what it feels like to arrive somewhere already mid-conversation, the volume already turned up, the incentives already set.

That return did what returns usually do: it clarified things I hadn’t named before.

I don’t think I missed “being online.” I missed leaving notes, expressing thoughts, seeing the authentic thoughts of others.

The modern feed is very good at one thing: encouraging response. Not thought-response. It rewards speed, alignment, intensity. It trains you to compress yourself into a posture that can be recognized quickly by strangers whoa re also in a hurry. Over time, that posture hardens. You learn what gets attention. You learn what doesn’t. You learn what to avoid saying, not because it’s wrong, but because it’s exhausting to explain.

None of this is evil. It’s just optimization doing what optimization does.

But it turns out, I’m not especially interested in performing coherence on a timeline.

I tried a few places. Some were technically impressive, socially active, and relentleslly loud. Others were quieter, but still shaped like stages. Even when the topic mix was nominally “technical,” the energy was the same: urgency, reaction, a constant low-grade demand to be present.

Presence is expensive.

What I actually want is something smaller. A place where it’s normal to show up, say one thing, and leave again. Where silence doesn’t read as disengagement. Where identity accrues slowly, if at all, and mostly through artifacts rather than affect.

I would prefer a feed where my messages can exist without asking for more.

That preference nudged me towards ystems that feel less like networks and more like notebooks. Systems where identity is incidental, where following is optional, where the default posture is read-mostly. Places that don’t assume you’re trying to build a presence or become an influencer, because most people there aren’t.

One of those places is Nostr.

I’m not interested in selling it to you, and I’m not convinced it’s “the future” of anything. What it offers me is narrower and more useful: fewer incentives to shout, and fewer penalties for thinking slowly. It feels closer to leaving a note on a corkboard than stepping onto a stage.

By contrast, spaces like Bluesky do something else well. They make it easy to find people. They make conversation legible. They make alignment visible. For a lot of people, that’s the point. It just isn’t mine.

This isn’t about politics, or culture, or which side of anything someone’s on. It’s about surface area. About how much of yourself you’re asked to expose in order to say something small and true. About whether a system expects continuity from you, or simply tolerages it when it happens.

I’m not burning down my presence in louder places. I don’t feel the need to delete anything. The past doesn’t bother me. But going forward, I’m choosing environments that don’t demand regular proof of life.

I don’t know how often I’ll post anywhere. Possibly not much. That feels fine. I’d rather write when there’s something worth leaving behind than maintain the illusion of presence for its own sake.

Notes age better than posts. Silence is not absence. And not every thought needs an audience. Some just need a place to land.