Days in the Life of Mo

There’s this moment, right? You’re driving peacefully, minding your own business, maybe humming along to SZA or silently judging the playlist your Bluetooth chose… when suddenly, someone cuts you off, honks like you insulted their ancestors, and speeds off like they’re racing toward the meaning of life.

Welcome to the internet.

Because if you squint just enough, the online world and road traffic are basically the same chaotic ecosystem, just one replaces exhaust fumes with opinions.

Everyone thinks they own the road (and the thread)

Scroll through any comment section, and you’ll see it: people weaving in and out of discourse like taxis in rush-hour traffic.
Some are just trying to get to their destination, maybe to understand, maybe to connect, and others? They’re double-parking their thoughts in the middle of your feed, hazards blinking, typing in all caps.

There’s a certain kind of internet driver who assumes their lane is the right lane.
You know them.
The “Actually, let me correct you on this obscure technicality” guy. The “Here’s why you’re wrong even though we agree” person.
Psychologists call this the Dunning-Kruger effect, when people with low expertise overestimate their knowledge. But on the internet, it’s just called Tuesday.

Trolls are the reckless drivers of the web

Every online space has them, the ones who go out of their way to create chaos.
They cut across lanes of logic, swerve into peaceful conversations, and honk just for fun.
They don’t want to arrive anywhere; they want to make sure no one else does either.

A 2014 study by the University of Manitoba found that people who enjoy trolling score high in traits like sadism and psychopathy.
In other words: they find pleasure in the digital equivalent of tailgating and flipping you off.

You could argue that the “mute” or “block” button is the modern horn, a way to protect your sanity without rolling down your window to yell, “Learn to scroll, Greg!”

Some people signal. Others don’t.

You know that one car that just turns, no indicator, no warning, no respect for your anxiety levels?
Yeah, that’s people who send you a random link on WhatsApp with no context.
Or the friend who texts, “We need to talk,” and then disappears for three hours.

Online communication has its own kind of signaling. A “typing…” bubble, a seen tick, a carefully placed emoji — these are our turn signals.
They say, “Hey, I’m about to merge into this conversation, don’t rear-end my feelings.”

Congestion, information overload, and the myth of getting somewhere fast

Traffic jams and internet rabbit holes share one cruel illusion: movement equals progress.
You can scroll for hours, click through tabs, and still end up where you started, slightly angrier and ten minutes late to something important.

Neuroscientists call it dopamine-driven feedback loops.
Every notification, every new tweet or TikTok video gives us a tiny hit of pleasure, enough to keep us idling in the digital slow lane, convinced we’re getting somewhere meaningful.

And just like rush hour, the internet isn’t slow because you can’t drive, it’s slow because everyone else is trying to get ahead too.

Speed doesn’t mean connection

Think about it.
You could drive next to the same car for twenty minutes, but that doesn’t mean you know them.
In the same way, we can scroll past hundreds of people daily and never actually connect.

Technology promised us closeness. But somewhere between “like” and “share,” we forgot that interaction isn’t the same as intimacy.

It’s like waving at someone through your windscreen, you see them, but you’re both still moving.

So how do we drive better online?

Maybe it starts with the same things that make a good driver: patience, awareness, and the occasional deep breath before honking.

Signal your intentions.
Don’t tailgate someone else’s opinion.
And when you feel the urge to respond to that controversial post at 2 a.m.?
Maybe pull over.

Because the internet, like traffic, doesn’t need more speed. It needs more grace.

If road rage is about control, then internet rage is about validation.
We honk online because we want to be heard. But maybe the real power lies in easing off the accelerator, in remembering that not every post needs your headlights in its rearview mirror.

After all, no one ever won an argument by cutting someone off at a digital intersection.

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