I Quit Social Media and Built My Own Web

"Nothing," I'd say. And I meant it. I was scrolling through nothing. Watching videos I didn't care about. Reading opinions from people I'd never met about topics that didn't matter. Feeling vaguely angry or anxious or inadequate, then scrolling more to make the feeling go away.

That's when I realized: I didn't quit social media. I should have years ago.

The Moment I Knew Something Was Broken

I'm autistic. High-functioning, they say, though I hate that term. I prefer "I can usually pass for neurotypical if I try really hard and then need three days to recover."

Social media was supposed to be perfect for people like me. No face-to-face awkwardness. Time to think before you respond. Connect with people who share your interests.

But it became something else entirely.

The algorithms started deciding what I could see and what my friends could see. I'd post something I was genuinely excited about - maybe a project I'd been working on, or something I learned - and... crickets. Five likes. But some random viral video I didn't care about? That's what the platform wanted me to watch.

I felt like I was shouting into a void, and someone else was deciding whether anyone could hear me.

Then the rules started changing. Things I posted in 2018 were fine. Same exact content in 2023? "Against community guidelines." No explanation. No appeal. Just... gone.

I realized I didn't own anything. Not my words. Not my photos. Not my connections with people. I was renting space in someone else's house, and they could change the locks anytime they wanted.

The Breaking Point

I was in a Facebook group for people with autism. It was one of the few online spaces where I felt like I could be myself. No masking. No performing neurotypical behavior. Just honest conversations with people who understood.

Then Facebook's algorithm changed.

Suddenly, the group's posts stopped showing up in my feed. I'd go days without seeing anything from people I actually cared about. Instead, I got "suggested content" from pages I never followed. Rage bait. Sponsored posts. Viral nonsense designed to keep me scrolling.

I'd have to manually navigate to the group to see any posts. And when I posted something, maybe 10% of the members would see it - down from nearly everyone a year earlier.

Facebook decided my connections weren't "engaging" enough.

That's when I knew I was done. Not just with Facebook. With the entire model.

What I Wanted (And Couldn't Find)

I started looking for alternatives. Mastodon. Diaspora. Scuttlebutt. All interesting projects, but they all had the same fundamental problem:

Someone else still controlled the platform.

Maybe it was a nonprofit instead of a corporation. Maybe it was "decentralized" with multiple servers. But at the end of the day, I was still signing up for someone's service, following their rules, hoping they wouldn't change things on me.

What I wanted was simple:

• Own my own content - not rent space on someone's server
• Control who sees it - by sharing links directly, not hoping an algorithm shows it
• Make it permanent - so my words don't disappear when a company shuts down
• Make it verifiable - so no one can impersonate me or edit my words
• Make it simple - no technical degree required

Basically, I wanted the web from 1995. Personal homepages. Direct connections. No algorithms. No ads. No corporations telling me how to communicate.

But with modern security and reliability.

So I Built It

I'm a programmer. When I can't find the tool I need, I build it.

I started with a simple question: What if your public key was your website?

Not a domain name you have to buy and renew. Not a username on someone's platform. Your actual cryptographic identity.

Then: What if publishing was just signing a document and sharing it through a network?

No uploading to a server you don't control. No trusting a hosting company. Just your laptop, signing content with your private key, and a peer-to-peer network helping distribute it.

Three months later, I had a working prototype. Six months later, I had something I could actually use. A year later, I published the first version of the MWP Browser.

I called it Mesh.

What Changed for Me

I've been using Mesh as my primary publishing platform for over a year now. Here's what's different:

I Actually Write Again

On social media, I'd start writing a post, then delete it. "Nobody will see this anyway." "The algorithm will hide it." "What's the point?"

On Mesh, I write because I want to. I share the link with people I want to read it. They can read it. No algorithm in between. No performance metrics making me feel inadequate.

I've published more in the past year on Mesh than I did in five years on social media.

My Content is Actually Mine

Everything I publish is signed with my private key. It's timestamped. It's cryptographically verifiable. No one can edit it, delete it, or claim they wrote it.

I keep copies on my laptop. Even if every relay in the Mesh network disappeared tomorrow, I still have my content. I can republish it anytime.

Try doing that with your Facebook posts.

I Don't Feel Manipulated Anymore

No "you haven't posted in a while" notifications trying to pull me back in. No infinite scroll designed to be addictive. No "suggested content" I didn't ask for.

I publish when I have something to say. People read it when they want to. That's it.

It feels honest again.

I Connect With Real People

On Mesh, if someone has my link, they can read my content. I don't have to "build an audience" or "optimize for engagement" or "post at the right time."

I share my Mesh identity with people I meet. They read what I write if they're interested. We have actual conversations, not performative comment threads designed to signal to an algorithm.

The people who read my stuff actually care. That's worth more than 10,000 followers who never see my posts.

Who Mesh Is Really For

I built Mesh for me. But I quickly realized I wasn't alone.

It's for people who feel like social media broke its promises.

The artists tired of Instagram hiding their posts unless they pay for promotion.

The writers whose Medium articles get paywalled without their permission.

The parents who don't want Facebook harvesting their kids' photos for AI training.

The activists whose accounts get suspended without explanation.

The small business owners whose Pages' organic reach went from 100% to 2%.

The neurodivergent people exhausted by unwritten social rules and constantly changing platform norms.

Anyone who just wants to publish something and have people be able to read it.

What You Give Up (And Why It's Worth It)

I won't lie to you. Mesh isn't social media. It's intentionally different.

You give up:

❌ Viral reach (no algorithm pushing your content to millions)

❌ A built-in audience (you share links directly with people)

❌ Likes and engagement metrics (no dopamine hits from notifications)

❌ Real-time chat and comments (Mesh is for publishing, not messaging)

❌ A company managing everything for you (you're in control)

You gain:

✅ Complete ownership of everything you publish

✅ Direct connection with people who actually care

✅ Permanent, verifiable content that can't be deleted or edited by others

✅ Freedom from algorithms deciding what you can say and who can hear it

✅ No corporate surveillance tracking everything you do

✅ Peace of mind knowing the rules won't change on you tomorrow

For me, the trade-off was obvious. I wasn't getting anything real from social media anyway. Just anxiety, comparison, and the feeling of shouting into a void.

Mesh gave me back something I didn't realize I'd lost: agency.

The First Week Was Weird

I won't sugarcoat it. The first week after I quit social media and moved to Mesh was strange.

My brain kept reaching for my phone. Muscle memory. Check Twitter. Check Instagram. Check Reddit. See what I'm missing.

But I wasn't missing anything. The world kept turning. My real friends still talked to me (via text, via email, via my Mesh page).

The "friends" who were really just algorithmic acquaintances? They disappeared. And I realized I didn't miss them.

What I did miss: the constant stream of other people's opinions about everything. The feeling of being "connected" to the discourse.

What I gained: time. So much time.

Time to read books. Time to work on projects. Time to think my own thoughts instead of reacting to everyone else's.

I remember thinking: "This is what the internet was supposed to feel like."

Two Months Later, I Felt Free

By month two, I stopped reaching for my phone compulsively. I'd check email once or twice a day. I'd publish something on Mesh when I had something worth saying - maybe once a week, maybe once a month.

No pressure. No performance. No anxiety about "staying relevant."

I started sleeping better. I felt less angry. I had more mental energy for things that actually mattered to me.

People started asking what changed.

"You seem calmer," a friend said. "Less... reactive."

I realized: I'd been in fight-or-flight mode for years. Social media kept my nervous system on high alert. Every notification, a little hit of adrenaline. Every doom scroll, another dose of cortisol.

Mesh was the opposite. Calm. Intentional. Human-scale.

One Year Later: No Regrets

It's been over a year since I quit social media. I don't miss it.

I miss specific people, sure. But most of them are reachable through other means - and the ones who only existed on social media weren't really friends anyway.

What I don't miss:

🚫 The algorithm deciding what I see

🚫 The anxiety of checking for notifications

🚫 The comparison game (everyone's highlight reel vs. my behind-the-scenes)

🚫 The outrage cycles and discourse of the day

🚫 The feeling that I'm the product being sold

What I love about Mesh:

✅ Publishing feels meaningful again

✅ I control my own space on the web

✅ My content is permanent and verifiable

✅ I connect with real people, not algorithms

✅ It's genuinely free (no ads, no data harvesting, no hidden costs)

You Can Try This Too

You don't have to be a programmer. You don't have to understand cryptography. You don't even have to quit social media entirely (though I recommend it).

You just need to ask yourself: Do I want to own my words again?

If the answer is yes, Mesh is here.

It's not perfect. It's not trying to be everything to everyone. It's just a simple way to publish content you own, share it with people you choose, and know it'll stay there as long as you want it to.

No company can take it away. No algorithm can hide it. No terms of service can change on you.

It's yours.

Getting Started is Easy

If you're reading this in the MWP Browser, you already have everything you need.

Click the 🚀 rocket icon in your address bar

Write something - anything - that matters to you

Click "Publish"

Share the link with someone who might care

That's it. You just published to the web without asking anyone's permission.

Welcome to the web you own.

A Personal Invitation

I built Mesh because I needed it. If you're reading this, maybe you need it too.

You're tired of the noise. Tired of the manipulation. Tired of platforms that promise connection but deliver isolation and anxiety.

You want something simpler. Something honest. Something that respects you as a person, not a data point or an engagement metric.

Mesh is that thing.

It's not trying to replace social media for everyone. It's trying to give you an alternative - a place on the web that's actually yours.

I hope you'll try it.

And if you do, I hope you'll share your Mesh identity with me. I'd love to read what you have to say.

Mitch Creator of Mesh Former social media addict, current free person

Related Reading

Welcome to Mesh: The Web That Should Have Been

Publish Your First Page (Step-by-Step Guide)

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