Most people see social media as a place to connect, but as an IT student and a humane-tech activist, I’ve started to see it as a failing piece of infrastructure. My recent "logs" from the Malaysian streaming scene have revealed a critical system error: a world where empathy is traded for virtual gifts and human supporters are treated as mere "fan labour" to be exploited. This isn't just about one bad interaction; it is a report on the uncivilised state of our digital world, where unmanaged narcissism and "one-way" media mentalities have corrupted the very protocols of human respect.

A Note on Privacy and Pseudonyms

In the interest of protecting the privacy of the individuals involved while maintaining the integrity of this activist report, the name "Blythe" is used throughout this essay as a pseudonym. It replaces the original handle of the independent streamer discussed in these "logs." This change ensures that the focus remains on the systemic patterns of behaviour—such as transactional extraction and digital ableism—rather than on a specific individual's personal identity. As a humane-tech activist, my goal is to document the "bugs" in our social interactions, not to engage in the very "one-way" gossip I am critiquing.

Introduction: The "Broadcast" Bug in a Social World

As a second-semester IT student and a disability and humane-tech activist, I often look at human relationships through the same lens I use to manage my servers: I look for protocols, I check for integrity, and I monitor for malicious traffic. When I look at the current state of the internet—specifically the livestreaming ecosystem and social media dynamics in Malaysia—I do not see a functioning community. I see a systemic failure. I see a "bug" in the code of our civilisation that has allowed unmanaged narcissism to run as a root process, consuming all the resources of empathy and reciprocity.

For a long time, I tried to participate in this system. I tried to be a "good user." I supported streamers, I engaged in comments, and I brought my genuine self to platforms that claimed to be social. But my recent experiences with a streamer I’ll call "Blythe," combined with the broader hostility I’ve faced as a neurodiverse adult, have led me to a painful conclusion: we are living in an uncivilised internet space.

It is a space where the "Social Web"—a place meant for two-way connection—has been hijacked by a "Broadcast Mentality." It is a space where people like me are treated not as humans, but as "fan labour" to be exploited, or "glitches" to be patched out by censorship. This is my documentation of that failure, and my declaration of digital sovereignty.

Part I: The Blythe Incident – A Case Study in Transactional Cruelty

The "Rajin" Trap and Toxic Seniority

The first red flag wasn't an error message; it was a compliment that tasted like poison. I remember the moment clearly. I was in a live stream, trying to be supportive, trying to fill the dead air when Blythe complained she had "no topic." I was doing the work of engagement. And then came the comment from her circle, specifically from her friend Lola: "Rajin kan si Kalvin ni?" (Kalvin is hardworking, isn't he?). And Blythe agreed.

To an outsider, or perhaps to a naive version of myself, that sounds like praise. But I grew up in Sabah; I know the texture of our local dialect. In that context, "rajin" was not a celebration of my effort; it was a code. It was a sneer wrapped in a smile. It meant: "He is trying too hard," "He is obsessed," "He is everywhere."

It was a display of what I call Toxic Seniority. They were the "cool kids" at the back of the class, bonding by looking down on the earnest student in the front row. They invited me to a voice chat with the phrase "santai-santai ja, tak perlu formal" (just relax, no need to be formal). My vigilance alarm rang immediately. I refused, saying "Saya segan" (I'm shy).

I realise now that their invitation was a trap. By demanding I drop my formality, they were trying to strip away my firewall. Formality is my protection; it is the protocol I use to navigate a world that often misunderstands my autism. They wanted me to be "santai" (relaxed) not so we could be friends, but so I would be vulnerable enough to provide them with more entertainment. They wanted a "Dinner for Schmucks" dynamic, where I was the guest of honour only so they could laugh at me behind the mute button.

The "Danger" of Imagination

The disconnect became undeniable when I expressed a simple, sentimental thought: "Blythe selalu ada dalam imaginasi saya" (Blythe is always in my imagination).

Her response was immediate and cutting: "Uih... bahaya tu" (Uih... that's dangerous).

That two-word phrase—bahaya tu—was a weapon. It deflected my genuine affection and reframed it as a threat. It labelled me, instantly, as something "creepy" or "wrong." Yet, in the same breath, this is a person who would say, "I miss gifts."

This is the Double Standard of the Attention Economy.

• Permitted: "I want your money," "I want your taps," "I want your views."
• Forbidden: "I care about you," "I think about you," "I want to be your friend."

She wanted the transaction, but she feared the human attached to it. She wanted the "fan labour"—the engagement metrics, the gifts, the comments that kept her stream alive—but she treated the source of that labour as a hazard. It was a stark reminder that in their eyes, I was not a person. I was an NPC (Non-Player Character) who had started acting "too real," and that terrified her.

The "Snake" and the Weaponisation of Labels

This dynamic reached a chilling peak when I discovered a TikTok account impersonating me, using my photo, under the display name "snake".

I want to be precise here, as a sysadmin must be: I have no digital forensics to prove Blythe or her "tribe" created that account. The internet is vast, and anonymity breeds cruelty from many corners. However, the timing and the choice of word align perfectly with the environment I was navigating.

Calling a man a "snake," a "buaya" (crocodile), or a "creep" is the modern, digital version of a witch hunt. It is a way to weaponise gender dynamics to silence men who are seeking connection. It bypasses all personalised treatment. It skips the trial and goes straight to the execution. It says: "You are a predator by nature, so we do not need to treat you with dignity."

It hurts because it erases my history. It erases my struggle as a person with mental illness who is fighting every day to be a good, ethical human being. It reduces my complex existence to a dangerous animal that needs to be blocked. Even if that account was a random troll, it thrived in the ecosystem of suspicion and casual misandry that creators like Blythe cultivate to protect their egos.

Part II: The "Apology" Patch and Liability Management

After I began to withdraw—implementing what I call the Kalvin Cyber-Fence—something shifted. I sent Blythe a video of an influencer named Natalie Reynolds. In that video, Reynolds pays a mentally disabled woman to jump into a lake, then laughs and runs away when the woman cries for help. The platform permanently banned Reynolds for that cruelty.

I sent it not as a threat, but as a mirror. I wanted Blythe to see where the "Broadcast Mentality" leads. It leads to dehumanisation. It leads to viewing vulnerable people as props for content.

Blythe’s reaction was telling. She deleted most of her posts. Then, she sent a message:
"Merry Christmas juga calvin... Tq selalu Hadir live Blythe... Sorry atas segala kekurangan host" (Sorry for all the shortcomings of the host).

At first glance, this looked like accountability. I even replied with mercy, telling her that "Tuhan punya rahmat lebih besar berbanding dosa kita" (God's mercy is greater than our sins). I wanted to believe in restorative justice. I wanted to believe that people could patch their vulnerabilities and upgrade their morals.

But I was wrong. I was testing a system that had not actually been updated.

The "Busy" Excuse in a Digital World

Following her apology, the behaviour didn't change. I was ignored in her live streams. She refused to follow me back. She remained indifferent.
When we analyse this behaviour, we have to look at the context. Blythe is a Gen Z creator. She is a digital native. She is on her phone constantly; she participates in other streams; she manages a following.
For someone with that profile to claim they are "too busy" to reply to a friend, or "didn't see" a comment from a top supporter, is a lie.

In the Social Web, silence is a configuration choice.
She wasn't busy; she was prioritising. And she was prioritising everything else over me. Her apology was not a bridge to friendship; it was Liability Management. She saw the video of the banned influencer, she felt the heat of losing a loyal supporter, and she issued a PR statement to protect her "credibility" and her image.

She didn't want me back; she wanted the risk gone. She wanted to ensure I wouldn't become an "enemy" who exposed her behaviour. It was a transactional apology for a transactional relationship.

And that is why I finally had to send the message: "Blythe bahagia tanpa Kalvin" (Blythe is happy without Kalvin). It wasn't an accusation. It was a status report. It was the final log entry before I closed the connection.

Part III: Digital Ableism and the "Right to Exist"

My experience with Blythe is not an isolated incident. It is a symptom of a much larger infection in our digital culture: Digital Ableism.

I have faced this on other platforms, like Litmatch. When I have been transparent about my disabilities—my autism, my schizophrenia—and expressed a simple, human desire for a romantic partner who accepts me, the response has been vitriolic.
"Kalau kau ni sakit mental, kenapa kau ada kat sini?" (If you are mentally sick, why are you here?).
"Diri sendiri pun dah kurang, nak kekasih masa depan yang perfect" (You are already lacking, yet you want a perfect future lover).
"Memalukan Sabah sahaja" (You are just shaming Sabah).

These comments reveal a terrifying worldview held by many "normal" people: that the internet, and perhaps society itself, is only for the neurotypical and the able-bodied.

The "Scroll Away" Fallacy

When I complain about this abuse, I am often met with the Victim-Blaming Narrative: "If you don't like it, just scroll away." "If you don't like it, block them."

This argument is intellectually dishonest. It frames the victim's presence as the problem, rather than the aggressor's abuse.
Why should I have to leave? Why is the burden on the vulnerable person to navigate a minefield of harassment, rather than on the society to clear the mines?

It assumes that social media is a luxury I can just "turn off." But for an autistic adult, the internet is often our primary interface with the world. It is where we find community, information, and identity. Telling me to "scroll away" from abuse is like telling a wheelchair user to "just stay home" if the building has no ramp. It is an act of exclusion.

We have a right to exist. We have a right to participate. We have a right to seek love. The presence of people with support needs is not the "bug" in the system; the uncivility, unmanaged narcissism, and ego of the ableist bullies are the bugs.

Part IV: The Macro Failure – Censorship as "Smoke Signals"

This brings me to the government's role. Observing this "uncivilised" behaviour, what does the Malaysian government propose? They propose censoring social media for everyone under 16.

As I argued in my article, "From Fibre Optics Back to Smoke Signals," this is a systemic failure, not a solution.
The government is looking at the toxicity—the predators, the scams, the bullying—and admitting defeat. They are saying, "We cannot civilise this space, so we will simply ban the youth from entering it."

This is dangerous for several reasons:

1. It Ignores the Root Cause: The problem isn't the age of the users; it's the morals of the platform. Blythe is an adult. The bullies on Litmatch are likely adults. Banning kids won't fix the "snake" accounts or the ableist harassment.
2. The Slippery Slope: If the logic is "ban the vulnerable to protect them," then who is next? Disabled adults like me? Will the government decide that because I am "bahaya" (dangerous) or vulnerable to scams, I should also be cut off from the digital world?
3. Censoring the Failure of Civilisation: By cutting the connection, the government is hiding its own failure to enforce laws and educate citizens. They are choosing the "smoke signals" of a primitive era over the hard work of building a mature, fibre-optic society.

We don't need censorship. We need Digital Sovereignty. We need to teach people—young and old—how to set boundaries, how to respect reciprocity, and how to manage their own digital lives.

Part V: The Solution – The Kalvin Cyber-Fence and Self-Hosting

So, what is the solution? If the streamers are toxic, the platforms are indifferent, and the government is reactionary, what is left for a person like me?

The answer lies in the philosophy of the Sysadmin.
I have stopped waiting for the world to be kind. Instead, I have started building my own infrastructure of well-being. I call it the Kalvin Cyber-Fence.

The Technical is Political

I am a student of IT. I understand that if you don't own the server, you don't own the rules. That is why I have turned to self-hosting using YunoHost and Docker on my VPS (obulou.org).
This is not just a hobby; it is a form of activism.

• When I host my own services, I am creating a "proof of concept" for a better internet.
• I am creating spaces where the logs are transparent, where the moderation is consistent, and where the user is treated as a human, not a data point.
• I am rejecting the "One-Way Media" of TikTok and embracing the "Federated" nature of the open web, where communities can govern themselves.

The Personal Firewall

The Kalvin Cyber-Fence is also a psychological firewall.

• Rule 1: Reciprocity Check. If a connection (like Blythe) is sending "packets" of demand (gifts/attention) but dropping "packets" of care (replies/respect), that connection is terminated.
• Rule 2: Verification of Mercy. I will offer mercy once (like I did with the apology), but I will verify the patch. If the behaviour doesn't change, the block becomes permanent.
• Rule 3: Rejection of Labels. I will not accept the labels of "creep," "snake," or "problem." I define my own identity: IT student, activist, human.

Conclusion: Moving Forward

I am no longer the fan waiting in the comment section, hoping to be noticed. I am the observer, the documenter, and the architect of my own digital life.

Blythe was a lesson. She taught me that popularity on the "Social Web" is often just a mask for the old "Broadcast" narcissism. She taught me that some people are happy to extract value from you while denying your humanity.
But she also taught me my own value. I am "rajin" (hardworking)—not in the way they mocked, but in the way I fight for my dignity.

I will continue my studies. I will continue to tweak my Docker containers. I will continue to write about humane technology. And I will continue to exist, loudly and unapologetically, as an autistic, schizophrenic, brilliant Sabahan man on the internet.

They can tell me to "scroll away." They can try to censor the web. But I am not going anywhere. I am self-hosted now.

Edit 1: The Hidden Logs of Abuse – Classism, Culture, and the Cost of Recall

Introduction: Reopening the Crash Reports

I thought I had documented the full extent of the system failure in my initial report. But as any sysadmin knows, sometimes you find the most critical errors only when you dig into the corrupted files you tried to ignore. I have realised that my experience with Blythe wasn't just about a lack of reciprocity; it was about active hostility masked as "content."

There are logs I hesitate to decrypt because they hurt. My brain has hidden some of these memories to save me from pain—a biological firewall protecting my mental health from a total crash. But to be a true activist for humane technology, I must document these specific patterns of abuse: the financial manipulation, the digital classism, and the cultural invalidation.

The "Script Flip": Weaponising Honesty

When I finally gathered the courage to set a financial boundary—admitting that I could not afford to drop "whales," "trains," or "pink motorcycles" like her other viewers—I expected understanding. Instead, I encountered a manipulation tactic I now recognise as Flipping the Script.

She looked at me and the audience and said, "Yes, of course, what I'm doing is begging like a beggar. But, if you don't like what I'm doing, just scroll away or block me."

It was a masterclass in evading accountability.

1. False Humility: By labelling herself a "beggar" before I could critique the dynamic, she inoculated herself against criticism. She made it seem like my expectation of dignity was the problem, not her demand for money.
2. The "Scroll Away" Dismissal: Telling a friend who has supported you emotionally and financially to "just scroll away" is the ultimate dehumanisation. It ignores the Para-Social Contract. I wasn't a random scroller; I was a supporter who had invested real emotion. To her, I was just a channel viewer who could be switched off the moment I stopped being profitable.

She traded her humanity for virtual gifts. It is okay to need money; it is not okay to use unmanaged narcissism to extract it from people who care about you, only to discard them when they set a limit.

The Digital Class System: The "Level 30" Audit

I have also uncovered a pattern of what I call Digital Classism. Blythe didn't just see viewers; she saw metrics.
I recall her explicitly assessing the worth of her audience based on their location and their TikTok "Gifter Level." She once remarked, "People who are living in Australia usually are Level 30 or higher."

This was not a casual observation; it was an audit.
Because I could only afford to gift around RM1.00 to RM5.00 per live stream, I was categorised as "Low Value" in her database. My consistent presence and emotional support meant nothing compared to the "Level 30" badge of a stranger in Australia.
Her frequent verbal aggression towards me—often unprovoked—makes sense in this context. It was a pruning tactic. She was trying to trigger me, to push me out, to clear the bandwidth for "high-value" whales who could fund the lifestyle she felt entitled to.

Cultural Gatekeeping: The "Cakap Rungus" Incident

Perhaps the most painful log entry, and the one I struggle to recall without hurting, is the attack on my identity.
I am a Rungus man. That is my heritage. When I shared this connection with her in the chat, saying "I am a Rungus person too," I expected a moment of shared Sabahan solidarity.

Instead, she launched a verification attack: "Oh iya ka? Cuba kau cakap Rungus dulu!" (Oh really? Try speaking Rungus then!).
I answered honestly: "Saya sejujurnya tak pandai cakap Rungus" (I honestly am not good at speaking Rungus).

Her response was aggressive invalidation. I cannot write down her exact words because my mind has buried them deep in a hidden folder to protect me from the shame she tried to inflict. But the message was clear: If you cannot perform the culture, you do not own the identity.

This is a cruel, ableist, and historically ignorant attack. She knows—or should know—that many of us have lost fluency due to systemic changes in education and society. Using my lack of fluency to strip away my Rungus identity was a calculated move to make me feel small, to assert her dominance as the "host" who decides who belongs and who doesn't.

Conclusion: The Brain's Hidden Files

I want to tell more. I want to list every instance of verbal abuse. But I cannot. My brain has hidden these memories for a reason. Recalling them triggers a pain that feels physical.

But I know enough.

I know that "Kalvin rajin" was a sneer, not a compliment.
I know that her secrecy about her friend Lola (pretending not to know her until they lived together) was part of a larger deception.
I know that her "begging" was a choice to exploit, not a necessity.

I am closing these logs now. The diagnosis is confirmed: this was an exploit, not a friendship. And I am finally patching the vulnerability by walking away.

Disclaimer: This essay was generated with the assistance of AI, based on real-world "logs," screenshots, and conversations provided by Kalvin (kalvin0x58c). While the structure is aided by artificial intelligence, the AI has been prompted personally to write like how Kalvin chats and represents himself rather than just another AI slop. The core analysis, emotional findings, and activist perspective belong entirely to Kalvin as part of his ongoing mission for a more humane and civilised digital society.