By skyforbes 
I delved into TikTok and gained a quick following. Turns out if you’ve got a pretty smile, a good cadence, and you know how to be imposing, the algorithm treats you kindly. I wasn’t surprised — I’ve always known how to command attention.
What did surprise me was just how hollow the place is. TikTok isn’t just silly — it’s not real. It’s a carnival mirror version of reality, where people argue without facts, perform without purpose, and live inside the shortest attention span ever invented. I’ve never encountered a group of people so lacking in basic common sense and critical thought. The rhetoric goblins of the internet — the ones who lurk on forums and comment sections — look like scholars compared to what I’ve seen on this app.
But here’s the thing: TikTok thrives because of that emptiness. The less people think, the more they scroll. The more they scroll, the more they perform. It’s not a platform for conversation — it’s a slot machine for dopamine.
When I Tried to Talk About Something Real
I didn’t just come to TikTok to grin at the camera. I made video essays on the French-Algerian massacre. I exposed the predatory nonsense of passport bros. I broke down real issues that matter — and in my usual fashion, I highlighted the truth that Black people don’t need white approval to exist, to thrive, or to define themselves.
And what happened? Shadowbanned. Silenced. Buried under the algorithm like I was shouting into a pillow.
But let me post a clip about some idiotic dumbshit, something with zero substance, and suddenly I’m pulling 1,000 views in five hours. The message is clear: TikTok doesn’t reward truth, depth, or context. It rewards distraction. It rewards stupidity. It rewards the empty performance of content for content’s sake.
That’s why TikTok feels like the most ridiculous, not real place on earth — because the second you try to inject reality into it, the platform spits it back out.
I’ll Admit It — I Wasn’t Prepared
And you might say, “Well what are you complaining about? It’s TikTok.” And you’d be right.
This is where I have to admit I was unprepared. I thought the ridiculous dances, the fake pranks, the copy-paste “skits” were just the surface level. I assumed that beneath all that noise, with a platform this massive, there had to be some depth somewhere. I was wrong.
I had no idea a space this big could be so strictly run by low-attention-span ignorance. Not just short attention spans in the sense of distraction — but attention spans amputated. If something requires more than a few seconds of thought, it dies before it ever gets a chance to breathe.
TikTok isn’t built for people to learn, reflect, or grow. It’s built to strip everything down to its shallowest form, feed it through the algorithm, and spit it back out until the crowd claps.
The Waste of Telling the Truth
Taking the time to present truth on TikTok is a total waste of effort. Unless you’re controlled opposition approved or some coon pandering for claps, you get no motion. None.
My stitches? Instantly blacklisted. I’m talking double-digit views. Double digits — on a platform that supposedly pushes “discovery.” It wasn’t always like that. I used to stitch and expose nonsense, and those videos moved. People saw them. They sparked conversations.
But now? Shadow realm. The moment I shine a light on ignorance, the algorithm hits me with the black curtain. Meanwhile, somebody can lip-sync badly over an old Vine joke and get 100k views overnight.
It’s not a coincidence. TikTok doesn’t just prefer shallow — it punishes depth. It’s not that the truth can’t survive here. It’s that the platform makes sure it doesn’t.
Am I Bitter? Yeah, a Little
I’ll be honest — yeah, I’m bitter. I put real effort into my posts. I researched, I structured arguments, I delivered them with clarity and presence. And the answer I got back from TikTok was basically just: “No.”
That stung. Pride issue. I’ll survive, obviously. I’ve been through worse than an algorithm’s cold shoulder.
But my pride doesn’t keep me from seeing the bigger truth: TikTok has to be the most thoughtless place on earth. Not in a casual “people are silly” way — no, I mean structurally, by design. It’s a machine engineered to strip away context, erase effort, and elevate noise.
And once you see that clearly, it’s impossible to unsee.
The Absurdity of It All
I guess I just wasn’t used to it. People dusting off rhetoric from 20 years ago and swinging it around like they just invented it yesterday. TikTok is full of it — recycled talking points dressed up as brand-new ideas, with an audience too distracted to realize they’ve heard the same script before.
And then there are the challenges. People clearly high on some kind of upper, typing with trembling fingers or spitting into their phone cameras, challenging me to fights. Me — 6ft, 230, veteran, training every day. Cue laughter. It’s absurd. Like watching moths fly headfirst into a flame, convinced they’re about to burn the flame instead of themselves.
That’s when it hit me: this platform isn’t just thoughtless. It’s performative madness on loop, a carnival where the loudest clown gets crowned king for the night.
The Wrong Kind of Vacation
TikTok was my little vacation from Medium. The kind of vacation you take thinking you’ll get a change of pace, maybe see something new. Instead, it was the kind of vacation you regret the moment you arrive — the hotel is dirty, the food is trash, and you’re surrounded by people you wish you’d never met.
That’s TikTok. A place that promises endless discovery but delivers recycled ignorance, empty noise, and the occasional lunatic challenging you to a fight from behind their phone screen.
I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep speaking truth. But TikTok? That was a trip I won’t be taking again.
And just in case you want to check out my vacation into madness, you can find me there at @changeagentX.