The schizo-fication of the online world

There was a time— until let’s say, six months ago —when the dominant internet self-diagnosis was anxiety, depression, or ADHD.

Okay, yeah everyone was overstimulated exhausted, and constantly self-analysing through the lens of a WebMD symptom list. But lately, the discourse has shifted. The new digital state of being? Schizoposting. Mania narratives. Hyper-symbolism. Basically, the internet is having a psychotic break, and we’re all in the group chat.

We used to talk about the internet as an attention-destroying machine. Everything was about dopamine cycles, constant tab-switching, the inability to read a full article without drifting away. But the newer, more acute internet disorder isn’t just about fractured attention—it’s about fractured reality.

The way people talk about their minds online has changed. Less "I can’t focus," more "I’m seeing connections everywhere." Less "I need to slow down," more "I haven’t slept in three days and I just realised the entire culture is one big ouroboros of collapsing meaning."

People aren’t just overwhelmed anymore—they’re untethered.

It’s me, I’m people. But I’m not alone. No really. Apparently the term "schizoposting" originated in online communities like 4chan, and was once predominantly right-wing.

According to Reddit, it refers to “posting content that mimics the disorganized, paranoid, or erratic thinking patterns often associated with schizophrenia or mental health breakdowns. These posts are typically characterized by rambling, incoherent thoughts, conspiracy theories, nonsensical connections between unrelated topics, and erratic or intense emotions.”

Basically, it’s the combo of schizophrenia and sh*tposting. And it has since trickled down into being used ironically throughout the wider online realm.

If ADHD internet was about jumping from one thing to another, schizo-internet is about the feeling that everything is connected.

The algorithm is designed to show you fractured, contradictory realities, all at once. One scroll and you’re seeing world news, conspiracy theories, a frog in a cowboy hat, someone’s breakup trauma dump, and a graph about how time isn’t real.

This hyperstimulation isn’t just about speed—it’s about paranoia. Who’s controlling what we see? Are these connections real, or are they just echoes bouncing off the algorithmic walls? Every piece of content is a potential rabbit hole. And falling down one means questioning whether you’ve uncovered a hidden truth or just tricked yourself into seeing one.

Everything online is taking on excessive symbolic weight.

Think: anything Ye has posted over the last 4 years. But he’s not the only one. People are reading into niche aesthetics like they hold the key to civilisation.

Schizoposting thrives on this—mundane things become loaded with significance. Why do certain colours keep appearing in pop culture? Is this meme actually part of a secret message? Why does this TikTok feel like a prophecy?

The internet turns everything into an omen.

This isn’t just about irony or a postmodern wink. It’s about people genuinely starting to perceive the world like this. The lines between joke and revelation, between playful theorising and actual paranoia, are blurring. The result? An entire culture that feels like it’s either decoding the Matrix or having a shared manic episode.

Conspiratorial thinking is no longer just for the tinfoil-hat crowd. The very structure of the internet encourages a kind of hyper-paranoia, where every piece of content feels like it’s leading somewhere bigger.

The way platforms serve us information—fractured, unpredictable, contextless—creates a feeling of constant destabilisation. What’s real? What’s satire? What’s an ad? Who’s in on the joke, and who’s the joke about? This really adds some urgency to “touch grass,” huh?

This isn’t just an abstract problem. It’s making us team-attached, other-team-fearing, and increasingly ungrounded.

If the 2010s were about ironic detachment, the 2020s are about over-attachment—to symbols, to hidden meanings, to digital tribalism. The paranoia isn’t just individual anymore; it’s networked.

So, are we all just going a little bit insane? It’s hard to say whether the internet is reflecting our collective mental state or shaping it.

Probably both. What’s clear is that we’ve moved past the tidy self-diagnoses of early internet therapy-speak. We’re now in full-blown schizo-mode, trying to navigate an online space where meaning is both hyper-present and totally collapsing.

So, what happens next?

Do we eventually reach a breaking point where this all snaps back into place? Or does the schizo-fication of everything continue, until the internet becomes a place where no one can tell whether they’re uncovering a deep truth or just staring at the algorithm’s latest hallucination?

Either way, take a deep breath. Drink some water. And try not to read too much into that strange pattern of numbers you just saw. Or do. It’s all connected, right?

-Sophie, Writer