My Life As An Internet Novels & Stories

Bastards sexualizing my marriage when, if only they knew—he wouldn’t even touch me. I shouldn’t care so much. Or know so much. But Anna had made me go through countless internet blogs and comment sections. About twenty percent of the internet didn’t care, another ten percent was actually happy for us, and the rest? Well, the rest were just hateful. I also hated that there were now multiple background stories about me out there—different versions of my life that weren’t even mine. Again, I didn’t really care. This was about me and my husband. I smiled at the thought.

Gosh! What am I? A teenager? Why do I feel so giddy? “Tell me something,” I chose to ask, “Will you be fine with it, people will point fingers at us every now and then, taunting me, calling me names because I was a dancer.” I didn’t remove my head from his chest. “Was?” He asked. “I quit after today,” I told him, “But people will have our videos, what will you do when it suddenly circulates around the internet?” I asked, “Even if you get a solution from a witch, what will you do about the internet?”

And right below it, they'd attached a photoshopped obituary picture of me. The mastermind behind the post was none other than Robert. He painted himself as a hardworking, salt-of-the-earth entrepreneur who'd had everything ripped away by a malicious schemer. His incendiary words instantly set off an army of clueless netizens. "Scum like Tasha should just drop dead! Justice for Robert!" "How much of a greedy lowlife do you have to be to pull something like this? Isn't she afraid of karma coming back to bite her?" "Damn, she's actually from our city. What an absolute embarrassment to all of us!"

“I didn’t imagine you had lived just a life before. Thought you were born with a silver spoon and have been rich ever since you were small” “Why do you think so?” “I just guessed. The internet never said anything about this” “The internet doesn’t know everything. I give and show them what they want to know and they write it down” “Well, that’s is true, back to your story?” “You seem interested in it” I said. “I am” “After high school, I applied for a scholarship to my dream college, I got in and still worked part time. I finished college early enough. Age 20”

“Um, no. After you abandoned me, I came here, posted, tweeted, and passed out. Slept like a damn baby.” Sidney frowned at Wes, but he continued to look back at her, blankly innocent. “How is the wide world of the internet?” he redirected. “I know that’s the first thing you checked when you woke up.” “Guilty,” she admitted. “It continues to go on without us. It is a bit creepy that everyone knows where I am and keeps asking about what I’m doing when I haven’t talked to them about it.” “That’s the consequence of posting and checking in everywhere you go.”

"Like The Blair Witch Project?" "That was kindergarten," I scoffed, a bitter smile touching my lips. "Blair Witch was a rumor. We are going to build a religion. The world has changed since 1999, Leo. We have a new god. It's called the internet. And it is hungry for content." I started to sketch on the napkin, my movements sharp and precise. "Phase One: The Mythos. The two characters in your script, Katie and Micah—they are no longer characters. As of next week, they are real people. We create MySpace profiles for both of them."

It was nothing personal against the two, he just wanted to destroy something and earn rewards for it. The experience was always exhilarating. Thanks to the internet, often people put their life within their data, whether it's personal medical or criminal record, internet history, financial and banking info, or relationship exchange and deals, everything is stored somewhere in the internet. Those who have access to them could easily manipulate them, and in some cases, completely destroy their lives. Sometimes he wondered how many lives had he destroyed before for the sake of the supreme leader?

Emma’s POV They say the internet never forgets. And today, it remembered me too well — even though I hadn’t done anything but fall asleep in the wrong man’s arms three years ago... or was it days ago? I wasn’t sure anymore. Time had become a funny, cruel blur. What I did know was this: The world had finally caught up with the fantasy I was trying to live. And it was tearing it apart. My name was trending. Not in the cute “New CEO’s Wife Has Killer Style” kind of way.

I’d let Adrian control my life and allowed my family to dictate my choices. And where had that gotten me? Murdered by the very people I’d tried to please. And now, in this life, I realized I was doing the same thing. For weeks, I’d let the internet drive a narrative about me. I’d let them say I was a failure, a gold-digger, a woman who couldn’t handle responsibility, a woman who was desperately trying to cling to a dead relationship. They mocked me for trying to run a drowning company, judging every step I took as if my life were a movie they could watch for entertainment.

I bet my entire life fund he knew me. “The American philanderer, sybarite, roue, himself. Mad Shanewood, the commoner.” “Uh, I see.” His grey eyes scrutinized me from head to toe. “You’re the guy who had sex with the girl and ended up trying to kill herself on the internet. Why are you Americans so obsessed with the Internet?”