i hate people who type in all lowercase

What if I did the opposite and juST STARTED USING ALL UPPERCASE?

I’m scrolling through Substack, being insufferable. I am purposely trying to make myself mad. It’s obvious. If you ask me if this is the case, I will deny it. I am filled with envy for people I can’t stand. That’s just how the game goes.

I stumble upon someone’s website where everything is lowercase. The titles, their name, everything. I am so lost. There is nothing to ground me. I fly into a fury.

Who the fuck do these people think they are? The words are intentionally softened, but at the same time it’s clearly a cry for help.

I’m genuinely trying to understand, for instance, the reason why YouTubers title their apology videos in all lowercase. Is it a way to seem more innocent and non-threatening? Well, why would you want that for yourself as a writer? Aren’t you trying to be heard? Or are you trying to manipulate an audience like a damn beauty guru?

I discovered writing when I was in middle school, too socially anxious to verbally express my thoughts, and found solace in writing/typing them out. So naturally I became very popular over Wizard101. I could sit there for hours, typing behind a screen. One of my closest friends on there I met through bonding over potato salad. It was that easy.

Anyway, the answer to this philosophical debate is “aesthetic.” It’s nothing—yet it’s the only thing that matters.

These are the art hoes. The girls who have hair like Lord Farquad and glasses like Harry Potter. They’ve never had a job. They go to liberal arts colleges and explain the concept of a microaggression to you without realizing the irony. They fucking love Perks of Being a Wallflower. They think Billie Eilish is alternative. They truly think they’re different—except, they’re doing what everyone else is already doing.

They dress like they’re in the nineties, almost exactly, yet they act like it was on accident. They act like it was just built into them. Guys ~ they were born in the wrong generation ~ It isn’t an accident: it’s like what happened to punk culture.

Punk started out being about being yourself; about rejecting labels and being your own person—until it went over the England, and became a fashion statement. Soon, you had masses of people all dressing and acting exactly the same, yet calling themselves an original individual. It completely destroyed punk and defeated the original intention. It became just another cult.

So yes, essentially what I’m saying is that if you type in all lowercase, you’re in a cult. You are in a fucking cult.

Do you know how I know? Because when I click on a person’s profile who does this, they all end up being the same.

They all talk constantly about self care (don’t get me wrong, it’s a good concept, but you can’t cut class twice a week, every week, because of “self care”), drink water out of jars to seem more sustainable—even though they literally bought those jars from a grocery store, new, which would’ve been exactly the same as if they just bought a freakin glass—and are for some reason always surrounded by plants.

Do you see what this is doing to me? These people are making me hate plants! And I’m a vegan for Christs sake! I used to love plants—but now, I’m too afraid to buy too many plants, because when that new friend I’ve been really trying with finally comes back to my apartment, and sees it looking like a jungle; sees that I have pined vines to my ceiling—guess what he’ll be thinking. Go on, guess.

This guy makes Twitter posts in all lowercase for the aesthetic.

And then he’ll have to go, suddenly.

I drink tea, too, but I have to keep it a secret. I drink about five cups a day. I love it. In fact it’s all I have.

But now, I can only journal about it with the lights off. It’s a complete tragedy. These people are ruining my life.

They believe they gain something through showing weakness. This is why I suggest writing in all caps. To convey STRENGTH. To convey DOMINANCE. DO YOU NOT WANT TO HEAR WHAT I HAVE TO SAY NOW? WOULDN’T YOU TRUST ME WITH YOUR LIFE?

NOW LAY DOWN. RELAX. IMAGINE I AM TELLING YOU A BEDTIME STORY.

HUMPTY DUMPTY SAT ON A WALL. HUMPTY DUMPTY HAD A GREAT FALL. I HAD SCARED HIM SHITLESS.

HIS LAST WORDS, AS HE LOOKED AT ME IN THE AIR, WERE “WHAT ARE YOU?”

AND I HAD NEVER FELT MORE ALIVE.