I am used to Google. I know how to search quickly for what I want and how to use resources together. I know the UI functions of advanced search and I know how search works in the backend. To some degree. After all, I am not in Eng. I even know how Google the company operates. What values it wants to cultivate in its employees, what Google wants to achieve, where it lacks confidence, where it lacks expertise, all of this is slowly crystallizing in my mind. Google is always there, clear and solid on most things, except when you try to search for your past.
Searching for fragments of what I barely remember now but what used to be such a profound reality that I believed at that time that future is already wrapped up in this reality; it’s predetermined. And now, two years later and there is so little left that even Google’s powerful algorithm is unable to find it.
I went in circles for hours, trying to remember details that may uncover something more than just thousand of pages filled with irrelevant names, feelings, and places. I searched in my mind before typing in all of the queries that I could think of, ultimately returning to nothing. People say that the internet remembers everything, your mistakes, your real name, your parodies of your yourself. But I’ve never found it true, successfully getting my mistakes deleted, my real name confused, and my parodies covered so deeply that it takes so many connections that even I don’t remember anymore.
But searching for something that used to be real and important and altered the path I was on and not finding even a glimpse of it, that’s what the internet has turned into today. It doesn’t accept wistfulness as a state; rather it forces change upon you.
I did change. But that does not mean that some things cannot remain or some people cannot be reconnected. Facing irrelevant, noisy results, blank pages, and no answers to your emails makes you question whether that solid reality ever was as solid as you thought. Or whether it was just your poor, biased, powerless brain inventing a dream from a dream. I’m frustrated, wistful, apologetic, confused, alone, and left behind. And by now that feels like a solid reality.