Dusty Wentworth

They told us writing was dead. That no one reads anymore. That if it can't fit on a reel, a slide, or a TikTok, it doesn't matter. But they were wrong. I still write—and not to chase likes, or feed algorithms, or become an influencer. I write to reclaim something they've stolen: our attention, our agency, and our ability to think clearly in a world addicted to the next swipe. The Rise of the Dopamine Dealers Look around. The platforms that promised connection now pedal compulsion. They're engineered not for truth, but for tension. Not for clarity, but controversy. They thrive on the quick fix—the flash of outrage, the sugar rush of affirmation, the numbing scroll that never ends. This isn't true connection; it's content farming. And the harvest, unfortunately, is our very minds. Big Tech doesn't care if what you post is true, thoughtful, or brave. It cares only that it's seen, shared, and emotionally charged. Substance is punished, often redu...