A Reflection on the Myspace Generation

Myspace may be dead, but people often log into their old accounts to retrieve old photos and discover forgotten teen memories, according to the Wall Street Journal. Over 50 million people still visit the site each month. That’s nothing compared to Facebook’s daily 875 million visitors, but that sure is a lot for a website we thought fell off the Earth in 2008.

Traffic has shown the majority of the visitors come on Thursdays, maybe once or twice a month, to retrieve photos for #TBTs. Ah, I knew I wasn’t the only one! Myspace is a cyber scrapbook.

I can go on and on about how important Myspace is to me, but I want to talk about how it’s important to all of us, no matter how much we want to deny it.

Myspace truly captured an entire generation, even though some are afraid to admit it. Whenever I have a conversation with somebody about Myspace they act like it never happened.
“STOP. Don’t go there. Ew, did I really post that? Why did I wear that much eyeliner?”

Okay, we get it. You’re embarrassed that you teased your hair and took too many flip phone selfies. Regardless of how we looked or how many awkward things we did, I can tell you this: I am proud I got to be apart of the Myspace generation, and I hope you are too.

A generation so raw and so real. If I could still access my old Myspace comments, blogs and messages, I would be unlocking feelings I haven’t felt in a long time. It would be like taking a time machine into the past. It’s not the same feeling I get reading old journals, looking at old photos, or browsing through any other social network. Myspace was real and no one tried to hide behind a facade. People just posted without a filter. We were all kids trying to figure out who we are and that showed. In a sense, it was historical. It captured the authentic essence of teen angst.

Those env2 selfies that you were so excited to post on Myspace.

That’s how Myspace was different. You didn’t have to be family-friendly or politically correct like you have to be on Facebook. If we were feeling some type of way, we posted it. We never held back our feelings. Everyone knew what we were up to. Followers? What’s that? It didn’t matter how many friends you had, but DAMN, it sure did matter how you ranked them. That top 8 meant everything to us. Forget vintage filters and poetic captions, we just needed a classic mirror selfie with some Panic at the Disco lyrics. And sure, you might be thrilled when a ‘potential bae’ likes your instagram photo, but we KNEW shit was about to go down when we got a photo comment with the classic “<3333.”
Scene hair, bitchy comment fights, the excitement you felt when you saw your ‘crush’ was online. That orange symbol with green radiating from it. Don’t you remember that?

Overall, it was nice to have ONE social network for everything instead of 10 for a little bit of everything. It was consistent, it was real, and everyone was active.

Myspace was my cyber scrapbook. Photos, blogs, surveys, music, messages, and comments. Forget about going through my twitter feed. I could care less about retrieving my deactivated facebook account. Go ahead, stalk my instagram feed. I don’t care. You won’t be able to find anything interesting there. But if you logged onto my Myspace, you would know everything about a certain period of my life.

Thing is...we can’t really log onto our old Myspace accounts and retrieve these old memories anymore. Myspace betrayed us. In 2013, when they were experimenting with the site and giving it the revamp, they deleted our old blogs, messages, surveys, and comments. I felt like an entire part of my life was erased. No email. No public service announcement. No press. Nope, not even some kind of heads up. Before our eyes, everything was deleted. I guess they just assumed no one would care.

It comforted me to know that I wasn’t the only one that went on Myspace to retrieve old memories. Yet, over 90% of the people who use Myspace go on it for that exact reason. Therefore, when they deleted all of those cyber memories from the site, the internet was not happy. Many people say Myspace committed suicide on that day. Myspace could’ve lived perhaps another 50 years or so. But instead, they took another route.

I want to see the comments I got on my pictures. I wanna see my emotional blogposts and my brutally honest surveys. I wanna see the status fights I got into. I wanna see the awkward messages between me and my first boyfriend. I want to see all of that. Those were precious memories...and now they are gone. Without my consent. Without anyone’s consent.

Perhaps it was to make the website better. Maybe they thought if they transformed the website, it would make a comeback. But let’s face it, as long as the scene kids lived, Myspace would never die. We would always come back to retrieve these old memories. Now that they aren’t there anymore...we left.

Myspace, thanks for the memories. Even though they weren’t so sweet. I guess I should thank Tom for maintaining you at your peak. But the moment he left you, you started erasing everything. You betrayed us. Maybe one day I’ll forgive you. But until then...I’ll be waiting for you to magically retrieve all of our data. Please. Do it for the scene kids.