April 21, 2025
by Marcus Delaney

It’s been over ten years, and I still think about it.

Back then, I was just a teenager—bored, online way too much, and spending hours scrolling through Pastebin and weird corners of the internet. One night I came across a dump of usernames and passwords from some dating site. Most of the logins didn’t work, but one did—a guy’s email. I got in.

I should’ve logged out. I should’ve known better. But instead, I got curious. I looked around his inbox, and there they were—nudes. He’d been sending photos of himself to someone. I don’t even remember why I did what I did next. Maybe it was the messed-up thrill of control, or the complete lack of empathy that comes from being too deep in the digital void. I logged into his Facebook and started posting those photos. On his own wall. With dumb, humiliating captions.

I checked back a few days later and everything was gone—password changed, posts deleted. Just like that, it was over.

But for me, it’s not really over. It’s one of those things that crawls back into my mind sometimes, especially when I think about who I was back then versus who I am now. At the time, I didn’t stop to think that there was a real person on the other side of the screen. I thought it was funny, edgy, whatever. But now? Now I realize how violating and cruel it was.

I don’t know who he was. I’ll probably never get to apologize. But if I could go back in time, I’d shake that version of me and say, what the hell are you doing? Because the internet doesn’t erase who we are when we’re behind a screen—it just shows it more clearly.

I guess I’m writing this because I need to admit it somewhere. I want to take responsibility for it, even if it’s just here.