I was there when MySpace ruled the internet. Back in the mid-2000s, before Instagram filters, before TikTok dances, before Facebook turned into your aunt’s political rant feed—MySpace was the place to be.
It wasn’t just a social network. It was a digital bedroom wall you could plaster with whatever defined you: glittery GIFs, autoplay music (sorry, slow connections), and backgrounds so loud they could give you a migraine. Your profile wasn’t just a page—it was you, coded in HTML and bad design choices.
And the Top 8? That was social warfare. Who you placed there could end friendships. Moving someone down a spot was basically a public breakup.
MySpace was chaotic, messy, and deeply personal. It felt like a living, breathing extension of your personality—something Facebook never quite captured. And for a while, it was unstoppable. By 2006, it was the most visited website in the United States, even bigger than Google.
So what happened?
Facebook happened.
Facebook came in clean, minimal, and uniform. No flashing text, no clashing color palettes. Just a simple, elegant interface. At first, it felt sterile compared to MySpace’s wild energy, but it also loaded faster, looked better, and worked on every device. And slowly, people started migrating.
MySpace didn’t help itself. The site became bloated with ads. Pages loaded like they were wading through molasses. The music deals, the celebrity partnerships—they were exciting for a moment, but they didn’t fix the core problem: the platform was drowning in its own customization.
By the time MySpace tried to reinvent itself as a music hub, the crowd had moved on. The party was over, and Facebook was hosting the afterparty.
Looking back, I don’t think MySpace died because it was bad. It died because the internet changed. We went from valuing personalized chaos to valuing streamlined connection. And MySpace, for all its cultural influence, couldn’t keep up with the shift.
Still, every once in a while, I miss it. I miss logging in to see if someone left me a glittery “thanks for the add” comment. I miss the thrill of choosing my profile song. I miss the digital messiness that felt more human than today’s perfectly curated feeds.
MySpace might be gone, but for those of us who lived through it, it will always be a reminder of when the internet felt like ours to decorate.