From Connection to Chaos

I grew up with social media in its early, innocent days—back when Myspace was the epicenter of my world and Hi5 was the cool alternative. If you’re nodding along, then yeah, we’re definitely showing our age. Before all that, I spent countless hours on ICQ and MSN Messenger, sending nudges, swapping emoticons, and perfecting my status messages to match whatever teenage drama I was living through. Those days felt simple, connected, and, in hindsight, pure.

Then came Facebook, and it was like stepping into a whole new digital universe. I still remember setting up my first profile—back when there was no news feed, just walls and pokes. I loved it so much that I even had “CMO of Facebook” on my vision board. That’s how much faith I had in it. For a while, it felt like the future of connection, a real community. I remember getting notifications when friends from another city were in town—a feature that actually brought people closer. But I guess it had to stop. How else could Facebook make money? Over time, ads began to dominate. The personal touch started to fade. It became a platform, not a place, and I found myself growing apart from something I’d once adored.

Instagram felt different at first. I was one of the first in my friend group to join, and I loved how simple it was—just photos, filters, and the joy of sharing moments. I dived into Snapchat too, using it religiously for years, snapping my way through life. But as these apps grew, they got away from me. They didn’t feel personal anymore. They felt designed for someone else. One Snapchat user summed up their weird experience perfectly: “It’s meant to be friends, but so many creeps try to message me all the time.” That’s not connection. That’s noise.

Meanwhile, LinkedIn somehow stayed consistent. It’s a bit ironic, really—the professional network outlasting the personal ones. And then there was Twitter, which for years was my favorite. It was perfect for quick thoughts, real conversations, and staying connected to the world around me. As a VC, it was invaluable. But now? Twitter feels overcrowded, full of bots and noise. I find myself wondering—should I jump to Threads? Bluesky? Does it even matter anymore?

I even entertained myself with Pinterest, though it always felt more like art than social media. Tumblr had its moment too, but that was about self-expression, not connection. And YouTube and TikTok? I don’t even count them as social media. They’re pure media platforms to me—designed for consumption, not connection. Some might disagree, but I’ve never felt the same level of engagement there.

Somewhere along the way, social media shifted from connection to consumption. Platforms stopped showing us what our friends were doing and started showing us what their algorithms thought we’d engage with the most. It became less about sharing life and more about performance—for likes, for comments, for followers. The lines between authenticity and curation blurred. What was once a place for friends became a stage. And the audience? Mostly advertisers.

It’s not just me who feels this way. I ran a survey recently, and one response stuck with me: “I don’t feel good after using social media.” That’s it. That’s the core issue, isn’t it? These platforms were meant to connect us, but more often than not, they leave us feeling worse. Even apps like WhatsApp, which I once thought of as purely functional, aren’t immune. “I don’t even understand how so many random crypto scammers get my number,” one user told me. “If it was on Telegram, I’d get it, but this is WhatsApp, which I’m meant to spend my time with family on.”

This isn’t just a personal frustration—it’s a collective one. Social media, which promised to bring us closer, has contributed to a kind of loneliness that feels harder to shake. It’s shifted from something we used to check occasionally to something that dominates our daily routines. There’s a reason “digital detoxes” are a thing now. People are craving offline moments, something quieter, something real.

I kept searching for a space like that, but it didn’t exist. So, we built it. That’s how Favs came to be—not because we wanted to, but because we had to. Surely, I’m not the only one sick of all the noise. BeReal tried something similar with authenticity, but I don’t think it ultimately worked out.

Favs is my vision for what social media could be: connectivity and authenticity, without ads, influencers, or algorithms. Just real friends, staying close.

Success, to me, isn’t millions of users. It’s fewer people feeling alone. It’s building a space that genuinely makes people feel good—a little refuge in the chaos. Something that reminds us of what social media used to be: sharing just to share, connecting just to connect. There was a time when a Facebook wall post from a friend felt like a meaningful gesture, not just an obligation. When Facebook wasn’t just about Marketplace and Groups but about real connections.

That’s what I’m hoping for with Favs. It’s not about building the next big platform. It’s about building a space that feels like home—for me, for my friends, and maybe for you too.

What if we could go back to that?

To a time when connection was the goal, not the collateral? It might be ambitious. It might be naïve. But it’s worth trying. Because surely, I’m not alone in wanting this.