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Authenticity is something we all strive for, which is ironic because I’d argue it’s also the one thing we all have. Or perhaps more accurately we can choose to have.
You can be “authentic” by simply being yourself, except that’s not really the authenticity that we’re all craving, is it? What we’re really searching for is being the internet version of authentic — raw but finely tuned, honest but contrite, present but unattainable — you know, Internet authentic.
For some people, Internet authentic means being “unfiltered”. For others, it's being unpredictable and bold. Sometimes it’s dropping long detailed Facebook posts that scream I am being honest, and other times it’s littering your speech with a mass of expletives because #YDGAF.
Our version, everyone’s version, of Internet authentic is merely borrowed from the last person we felt was being genuinely authentic with us. We are the Joneses — our white picket fences, red Mercedes and 2.5 children are simply versions of Internet authenticity.
Authenticity in writing
What’s most interesting about this is that I’ve spent time re-evaluating my own writing against our idea of the authentic self versus Internet authentic and realized… I’ve got a lot of work to do.
