I sometimes forget how old I am… until I remember the first internet I loved.

Before feeds. Before algorithms. Before “creator funnels.”

I was on Prodigy, America Online, listservs, and text-only email in college. ASCII everything. No images. No branding. Just words, usernames, and a lot of curiosity.

It felt less like publishing and more like walking into a familiar bar.
Not everyone knew your real name, but they knew your username, your vibe, your takes. You showed up. You talked. You listened. You came back.

When I first joined Substack, I’ll be honest, I was confused.

My Notes feed felt like a loop of how to Substack on Substack. Guides, tips, sales pages, and more guides. I remember thinking: Why would people pay for this? Didn’t we already have YouTube for “how-to”?

Don’t get me wrong, I use tutorials all the time. Blogs, videos, walkthroughs. I’ve learned pottery techniques, fixed broken things, and absolutely Googled my way through basic problems. Information matters.

But information alone has started to feel… thin.

What feels missing is community.

In the early days of the internet, forums and message boards weren’t an afterthought; they were the point. Whether it was punkrock.net, TV show discussions (yes, I absolutely argued about episodes of Seinfeld), or niche interests no one around you shared, the internet offered something radical: belonging.

Have a question? Ask people.
Need connection? Find your people.
Feel a little alone? You weren’t anymore.

Today, so much of the internet feels optimized for monetization first and humanity second. Community often shows up as a bonus feature, something you get after the upsell, not the foundation underneath it.

And I think people are tired.

I think we’re craving something older and more basic: spaces where we can talk, be known, disagree kindly, learn together, and feel less alone. Spaces that feel like libraries, coffee shops, or neighborhood bars, not billboards.

That’s the mental health piece.

Connection, community, and belonging aren’t “nice extras.” They’re core human needs. The early internet worked not just because it gave us information, but because it gave us each other.

Maybe that’s what this next phase of the internet is about, not endless content and shallow influencers, but about rebuilding places where people actually want to stay.

This is the thread that runs through this space at Beyond the Screen: thinking together about technology, mental health, and how we stay connected, and human, in a digital world.

Where have you felt real community online, past or present?