Ruined Lives

Monthly Contest Winner Archive. Now, someone is ruining mine. I have hundreds of burner accounts across Reddit, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and others.

There was a girl vlogger on YouTube, who did makeup tutorials and other boring crap. Very sweet girl, doing YouTube on the side in college. Finding her was a happy accident, really. I was scrolling through one of my Tinder accounts and happened upon her profile. In it, she mentioned she was a vlogger. I realized I had an opportunity. My Tinder profile was that of a guy straight out of a romantic comedy.

Tall, dark and handsome. The pictures were from some obscure male model on Instagram. The vlogger took the bait, and we began talking, back and forth. I played a sensitive yet mature medical student whose dream was to start a free clinic to help inner city kids. The vlogger was in love with me after a week. I played it slow, reeling her in a little bit each time. We texted almost every day for two months, about everything. Her parents were extremely religious and conservative, and she was happy she was away at college and out from under their thumb. She wanted to Skype or call on multiple occasions, but I was able to come up with some excuse every time.

Finally, in the midst of a particularly intimate text conversation, she sent me a nude photo. Before I even responded to her, I posted that photo on every single one of her social media accounts, and linked it in the comments of a dozen of her YouTube videos. The response was devastating. Every day for the next two weeks, that photo was posted by hundreds of other users all over the internet.

Her Twitter timeline was filled with that photo, over and over. Finally, she deactivated her YouTube channel and deleted all of her social media accounts. Her last video was her sobbing in front of the camera and talking about how her parents had pulled her out of college after someone sent them the picture. I watched that video a hundred times. The power, the control I felt was exhilarating. That was the beginning. I was obsessed with feeling that power again.

I was good at what I did. I had a dozen accounts that I used to spam hate at a popular twitch streamer with. Finally he snapped and called one of them a racial slur during a livestream. The backlash was swift and vicious. He lost thousands of followers and all of his sponsors. Without the money, he had to abandon streaming and go back to working some dead end job full-time.

Another time, I dug up some old tweets from a reasonably well known actor and spread them around online. These tweets contained some ridiculously offensive jokes, and were quickly picked up by the outrage mob that is the internet, and culminated with a campaign to fire the actor from the TV show he was starring in at the time. I was a god. A faceless, nameless entity of cyberspace who could snuff out the lives of others like insects. I spent every waking minute I could looking for new targets, monitoring my many accounts.

Other people were so small, to me. I watched their meaningless lives on the internet, and I destroyed them. They were ants, tiny beneath my heel. In our world today, people put everything online.

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And I could take it all away. It was a typical day. I was on one of my burner twitter accounts, when I got a random DM. I would have ignored it, until I realized that it was from one of my own accounts. I was baffled, so I opened the message. Odd, but I dismissed it as a weird virus that I must have got.

I logged in and deleted that account, and was about to forget about it, when I got another DM, from another one of my burner accounts. I was beginning to get worried. As I was contemplating what to do, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, and saw I had a text from a blocked number. I began to panic. What the hell was going on?

I was being hacked by someone, targeted. I had always been extremely careful, never using one account for too long, never revealing any personal info. My PC was heavily encrypted. How could someone have gotten into my accounts and have found my phone number? I was going through my multiple Facebook accounts and changing passwords when I noticed one of them had a new post.

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Fearing the worst, I clicked on it. It was a list of everything I have just told you. Names, descriptions of my crimes and victims. Lists of people whose lives I had ruined, confessionals of things I had done. And it ended signed with my full name, social security number, and home address. I logged into another account, and another, and another. The post of my crimes was on every one. I deleted them as quickly as I could, but I had many accounts.

Everything I had done, from behind the anonymity of a computer monitor. All of my careful manipulations and lies, that I had thought could never be traced back to me. Someone out there is watching me, waiting to punish me. This irrational, exaggerated way of thinking is sometimes referred to as cognitive distortion, and is fertile ground for anxiety and unpleasant emotions.

Whatever I have done that has led to me posing this question to a search engine, another person or myself , I am craving some kind of portal into an unlived future. What happens next is an eternal, torturous unknown. In a perverse way, it may be easier psychologically to hold on to the faint assumption that I have completely messed things up for myself.

This is because when our thoughts and beliefs are in chaos , settling on a neat narrative is easier on the mind. All of this is very abstract, of course. What constitutes damage will differ from person to person, based on our value systems and the different sense of worth we attach to things — the product of our life experiences, memories and all the meanings we embody along the way.

The prison system is interesting to think about in this context. In the case of violent gang crimes , often involving teenagers and young adults, tit-for-tat moral mathematics seems to be the driving force. In the aftermath of a crime, do the perpetrators have a sense of what it means for the rest of their life? When does regret set in? No one is born violent, so we have to ask what has happened, or is happening, for those involved to seemingly place so little value on the future — both that of others, and their own.

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