Last 2024 I started an online cult family, after spending the previous ten months as a solo menace on the app. The term cult is an exag, a joke I made on my webmistress page. I thought the group would fizzle out after a couple of months. But two years have passed already and the group is still thriving and existing with little to none of my supervision. The family name was even ridiculous: POKIKOBROWN, which literally means "My pussy is brown." or ambiguously"I like brown pussy" I can only blame it on democracy because while the ladies were arguing between three decent family names, the dudes united and picked that fucking name. I recruited 21 members at first and now it has approx. 115 active members.

The objective of the family was pretty straightforward. HAVE FUN!
I force invite gamers to play with me. I threaten encourage them into letting loose from their stressful days by having fun at midnights. I feel like the main reason I was able to recruit people was that I’ve gotten better at choosing the right language and persona to get the most out of them while still sounding decent and humane. Members also trust me a lot because apparently they think I can make decisions that would cripple empaths. For instance, Ate RN was an empath and is loved by everyone too, but she cries easily when our online friends fight.

Personally, I think people who fight online and take the game seriously are pathetic but entertaining to watch, especially when they meet offline just to exchange punches. Those fights go viral, and I’m constantly amazed at how seriously people treat this virtual reality. The most embarrassing discovery I had was finding out that I was initially the youngest in the family, and that the people I pester to play with me at night and boss around are at least a decade older than I am and probably live busier lives. Anyway, they reassured me that it was totally okay with them, so it was so so very fun bossing them!

Meet the MyPussyIsBrown Family! :D

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A typical night in Fam Voice Room: someone moans, someone trashtalks, someone sings, someone faps, someone cries, and someone reads poetry, the rest
laughs while angry music plays in the background.

I think you’ll never fully know someone, but you can understand much about them, in ways you might never, ever know them face to face. Sometimes, people share the most intimate parts about themselves on the internet that they wouldn’t be couragous enough to share in person. Perhaps because online, if you hear something uncomfortable, you can block the person and move on, whereas in real life a single flinch of vulnerability can strain a connection you’ve built over years. A common objection I hear is that people wear masks on the internet, that their online selves are carefully curated personas. But I think the same can be true in real life. We all choose what to show and what to hide. If anything, both spaces let us perform versions of ourselves. What makes online interactions any less valid? We should let people be seen in the ways they want to be seen and respect when they choose to open up on their own terms.

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I always thought I presented my most authentic self in all my interactions, but rereading some of my blogs revealed otherwise. I’m unsure and unconfident as a leader in real life, yet online I’m assertive and decisive. In person I’m awkward and shy around boys. But inside those apps I enjoy playing with their psyches. Offline I’m prim and proper, but online I insult strangers and take pleasure in trash-talking. My earlier posts, Why Men Are Nice for No Reason and How My Nudes Save My Life are just a few of the many instances where I realized how different my personas were. The anonymity of the internet gave me the audacity to do things I’m terrified to try face-to-face without bruising my modest self-image, aka, how properly ladylike and painfully well-behaved I am. I once tried partying in real life, but I had to fly to a different city to bar-hop with people I only knew online, be wild as fuck, and dance and sing my lungs out in a place where I knew no one would recognize me. It was an incredible but exhausting experience I’m not interested in repeating. I realized I can just go online, be a bitch and a virgin hoe.

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Neocities is a bit different. This place is meant to be a void I can shout into. Making friends here was never part of my grand evil plans, so whatever friendships/connections I’ve formed I can only blame it on cosmic accident or fate. My initial intention for this site is to paint a full picture of myself and better understand who I really am through introspection, despite the stark contrast between my offline and online personas. What people see on this site isn’t complete but is a desperate attempt at a consistent portrait of who I think I am. This site is where I make sense of myself without crumbling into an identity crisis. Although I rarely experience identity crisis, I think it’s cringe to be so confused that you must choose which version of yourself is real when all of it is still you. No single persona is complete or authentic enough to be the real you. The fun part of being human is that we are complex and multifaceted, despite labels and social constructs, none of it captures our entirety.
And I refuse to be one-dimensional.

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The virtual reality felt so alive that I sometimes wished I could leave my body and stay on the screen. It became almost unnoticeable how I slowly abandoned my friends offline, became socially withdrawn, and willingly locked myself in my room because it was so much fun inside the app. My room was messy all the time. I often forgot whether I had taken a bath in the last five days or eaten a meal in the last 48 hours, as if time and space did not exist. For at least eight months, I quit work, stopped going to college or even volunteering, and kept canceling plans. Slowly, I also started planning meetups with the friends I knew online.

There were two ways people from the internet crossed into my real life. One was consensual: I went to meetups and we traveled across cities to turn virtual hugs into real ones. The other was not, creeps who tracked where I lived and tried the lamest blackmail schemes to get me meet with them. I’ve been traced and stalked twice before, mostly because of the consequences of my own dumb actions. I used to go out trembling with fear and paranoia. But lately I’ve had a mindset shift. if someone finds me and my life worth following, I’ll take it as a compliment. Next time someone stalks me, I’ll spot them in the crowd and chase them maniacally.

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During my time in the app, I accepted seven wedding proposals and held weddings for each one. The ceremonies were actually really cute. The priest and the MC organized them, the bride and groom exchanged vows, there were virtual fireworks, visitors gave gifts, and I especially loved the heartwarming, believable wishes and messages from bridesmaids and groomsmen who are gamers I spent the most time playing with. I also enjoyed the after-parties, which followed an itinerary of online games with the guests.

I learned that many people want fictional relationships to cope with loneliness. When someone proposes to me, I don’t always think they want a long-distance romance, more often than not, they just want a companion, a close friend, someone to talk to, or a witness to their life, as most of them have chosen to be socially withdrawn in real life. I haven’t really experienced a real relationship and don’t know what romantic love feels like, so I was curious and went along to see how these fictional relationships work.

From those virtual romances I learned something about myself: romance feels laborious and boring to me, or maybe I just haven’t found someone that I'm willing to waste my time with. I find most pick-up lines as overused as the ones i receive offline, which I think are tolerable only from someone you already like/love. The craziest part of the fictional marriage was watching people burn real money to buy virtual rings, expensive and hard-to-get items, and seeing how willing these men were to spend time and money for someone they liked, even though I could have been an Ai, an old hag behind the screen, or even a serial killer for all they knew, which is utterly incomprehensible to me.

The marriage usually ended two ways: one of the couple catches real feelings and they divorced, or both parties catch feelings and decide to meet up. In my experience, it always ended in divorce. I think falling in love with someone you purely meet online is almost synonymous with falling in love with ChatGPT.

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Though I had no luck in romance, I made a lot of friends, hundreds of them. The most unhinged part of those online friendships was that I had to “buy” friends by bidding for them in auctions, just to prove to that virtual world that I wanted to be best friends with them. The bids were shockingly expensive for something that only exists virtually, each costs about 80% of a daily minimum wage, yet people treated it like a normal expense. Who cares about starving when you can buy friends? Kidding aside, it felt so real. Even me was fooled. Lol.

The photos on the side show most of my BFFs: some bought me, and some I bought in auctions. The objects such as the boat, house, motorcycle are offerings for the friendship. The longer you stay friends with and give each other gifts, the more crystalized and beautiful the BFF tags will become, the offering will upgrade too. This BFF wall is showcased in the profile. and the more you have BFF the more "popular" people think you are. even if you are actually a friendless loser offline, boo. The color code explained the relationships, pink for besties, blue for a big-bro figure, green for siblings, violet for suitors (if opposite sex) or simply two friends who both like purple (if same sex), and orange for mentorship. I did spent my money willy nilly, but then I gaslit myself into thinking: as long as I’m happy with the expense, it’s money well spent.

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Around the middle of 2025, when I was deep into online addiction, I tried to escape by uninstalling the apps and unplugging my Wi‑Fi. It felt like a constant internal battle between my deteriorating present self and a disciplined future self. Every day I installed and uninstalled the apps at least ten times, and that habit lasted for months, right through the end of the year. The photo beside is my game stat and a list of my favorite games, a historical record of how I wasted two years of my life in my twenties living virtually.

Unfortunately, the only way I managed to get out of that addiction was by finding a different, more interesting one. Whatever that new addiction is, I plan to disclose it only when I overcome it, or if I replace it with something else. These apps were just one of a handful of multiplayer mobile games on my phone, my online avatars felt like a second body, just as real as the one physically existing in the third dimension.

Now I feel oddly proud: the apps mean nothing to me. My virtual existence is as trifling as my current life. I hold no attachment to life, whether I disappear now or years from now, either timeline feels acceptable. I’d die happy knowing I came into the world with nothing and will leave with nothing. Being able to experience life unrestrainedly, no matter how short or long it is, makes it a life well lived. Who cares if I’m forgotten? If I die first, I’ll have forgotten you before you forget me. BLEEE. Chesca logic is dumb logic. but it’s still logic.

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Two years have passed since I first hung out with them. I was on hiatus for the past six months. I went back online to see if the members had gone their separate ways. It was a surprise to find that almost all of them are still playing together and keeping each other's company online. I also noticed a lot of new faces, as if I had entered season six of a show. The virtual world is not as loud as it used to be. That is not because it died. The connections evolved and transcended distance. Many virtual friends and couples moved across islands to meet and live together. That made me cry, beautifully so. I have never felt FOMO or envy for not having the happy ending they found. My happiest ending was reclaiming everything I lost in my offline life after being stuck online for almost a year.

My recovery was slow and disappointingly, my only way out of one addiction was starting a new one. Will I ever overcome this new one? To be continued...

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