If your screen time report personally attacks you every Sunday, welcome home. The internet in 2025 isn’t just where we hang out—it’s where entire personalities, aesthetics, and inside jokes are being born at 3 a.m. and dead by brunch. Scroll once and you’re in a fake reality TV confessional, scroll twice and you’re learning micro‑history from a creator dressed like a medieval peasant.
This is the era of hyper‑niche, hyper‑fast, and hyper‑relatable everything. From “delulu as a strategy” becoming career advice to AI fanfics that know you a little too well, the timeline has never been weirder—or more addictive. Here’s what’s actually running the internet right now.
POV Internet: When Every Scroll Feels Like You’re The Main Character
POV content has officially evolved from “POV: you’re my barista” into full‑blown mini movies with lore, sequels, and spin‑offs. Creators are filming cinematic “A Day In Your Life” clips that feel like your subconscious got a camera crew and a soundtrack. Think POV: you’re the burnt‑out intern, the villain era ex, the gifted kid who peaked in 7th grade—there’s a hyper‑specific universe for every oddly personal scenario.
These videos work because they hack that main‑character feeling we all secretly chase. Add dramatic zooms, ambient lighting, and a song you’ll be sick of in three days, and suddenly your walk to the fridge is an Oscar‑nominated performance. The comments turn into group therapy sessions: “Why is this so me?”, “I feel attacked but continue,” and “I didn’t know we all shared the same childhood.” It’s not just content anymore; it’s collective fan‑fiction of our own lives.
POV formats are also becoming social scripts. People are meeting IRL and introducing themselves like, “My whole vibe is POV: the friend who always says let’s do it and then immediately regrets it.” The more unhinged and specific the POV, the more shareable it becomes—because nothing goes viral faster than the feeling of being weirdly seen.
Chaos Tutorials: Learning Stuff You’ll Never Use (But Can’t Stop Watching)
The internet no longer wants clean, perfectly edited tutorials. It wants chaos. “How to” videos in 2025 are unhinged, half‑serious, and accidentally educational. You’ll click on a “how to make iced coffee” video and end up deep in a rant about late‑stage capitalism, attachment styles, and the creator’s beef with their landlord—somewhere in there, yes, they add ice.
People are obsessed with “useless skills” tutorials that are gloriously over‑detailed: how to fake‑cry in 10 seconds, how to walk like an NPC, how to argue like a reality TV star and still sound right. These guides blur the line between parody and advice, and that’s exactly why they spread so fast. You might not need to know the perfect way to storm out of a room on camera, but your group chat absolutely needs that link.
What’s new is how tutorials have turned into personality reveals. The steps matter less than the chaotic delivery: stuttering, mid‑rant tangents, pets interrupting, dramatic zooms, edits with memes layered on top. Screenshots and clips fly around social feeds because people don’t just want tips—they want a vibe. And if you accidentally learn something along the way? Bonus.
The “Delulu” Era: Manifesting, But Make It Unhinged
“Delulu” has officially graduated from niche K‑pop slang to a full lifestyle setting. The internet has turned being “delulu” (delusional) into a semi-serious survival strategy: act like it’s already yours, talk like it’s already happening, and ignore any evidence to the contrary. It’s not just for crushes and situationships anymore—people are being delulu about jobs, followers, apartments, and glow‑ups.
Creators are posting mock‑motivational clips like, “No experience? No degree? No portfolio? Just be delulu, babe,” over cinematic city B‑roll, and somehow it…hits. There’s genuine comfort in pretending your life is the prequel to your success montage, even if you’re currently on a mattress on the floor. The line between satire and spirituality is blurry, but the shares are very, very real.
The trend works because it taps into that quiet desperation everyone’s feeling without getting dark. People duet these videos showing their tiny wins—an interview, a new hobby, a half‑finished side project—captioned “being delulu low‑key works.” It’s self‑aware, unserious, and weirdly hopeful. The internet might be spiraling, but it’s spiraling with a vision board.
AI Fandom Fever: When Your Favorite Characters Slide Into Your DMs
Fan culture didn’t just go digital; it went AI. Entire fandoms are now building custom chatbots that roleplay as fictional characters, idols, streamers, or the chaotic best friend you wish you had. People are sharing screenshots of fully AI‑generated conversations that read like unread drafts of a romance novel, a therapy session, and a crack fic all at once.
But this isn’t just roleplay—it’s collaborative storytelling. Fans write prompts, the AI spits out scenes, and then the internet picks the “canon” version by sharing, stitching, and commenting. Suddenly, you’ve got whole universes that technically no human ever wrote alone, and yet thousands of people feel emotionally invested. It’s fanfic on fast‑forward.
Creators are leaning in hard: some are dropping official “AI versions” of themselves to handle FAQs or play games with fans in DMs, blurring the line between parasocial and programmable. The wild part? People know it’s synthetic and still catch feelings for the storyline. The most viral clips are half‑joking, half‑serious: “I know he’s AI but he understands me more than my last three exes.” Therapy might not approve, but the algorithm definitely does.
Memeable Mundane: Romanticizing The Boring Parts Of Being Alive
A new wave of content is making the most boring parts of life weirdly cinematic. We’re talking slow‑mo clips of grocery store runs, silent morning walks in ugly hoodies, late‑night desk snacks under blue light—set to emotional soundtracks and slapped with captions like, “This is your sign to romanticize existing.” The algorithm has decided that being chronically online and kind of tired is an aesthetic.
Instead of flexing luxury, people are flexing relatability: mismatched socks, secondhand furniture, reheated leftovers, breakdowns in the car between errands. The more “nothing special” the clip looks, the more people repost it with, “Wait, this is literally my life.” It’s anti‑aspirational content that somehow feels aspirational because it makes your regular day look…valid.
This trend hits hard because everyone’s exhausted by highlight reels but still wants something to feel good about. Turning your commute, laundry day, or doom scroll session into “main character in a slow indie film” energy is low‑effort, high‑comfort, and extremely shareable. It’s the soft rebellion against hustle culture: if life won’t slow down, at least we can throw a filter on it and add a nostalgic track.
Conclusion
The internet in 2025 is basically a giant group chat: slightly unhinged, occasionally profound, and powered by shared delusion and inside jokes. POV worlds, chaos tutorials, delulu manifesting, AI fandoms, and romanticized boredom all have one thing in common—they make people feel less alone in how weird it is to be a human with Wi‑Fi.
If you’re making content right now, this is your playground. Get specific, get chaotic, get unreasonably sincere. The weirder and more “too real” it feels, the faster it flies around the timeline. Because at the end of the day, the most viral trend on the internet is still the same: finding out a million strangers secretly live the exact same life you do.
Key Takeaway
The most important thing to remember from this article is that this information can change how you think about Internet Trends.
