This time, the only way out is to isolate, in one place, with as few people as you can manage. The only “IRL” I have is with a partner I moved in with a few months ago and who I hope still wants to marry me at the end of this, whenever that is. Under these circumstances, we are both blessed and cursed to have our screens, with the unlimited, and uncurated, connections they provide.

The content blends together with dizzying speed and not much coherence. But it validates the idea that something important is happening, something terrible but hopefully bearable — even as many of our actual lives grow narrower and more mundane than ever (assuming we manage to stay healthy). We can feel surrounded by people while being completely alone.

Going online right now is necessary — but that doesn’t mean the internet has suddenly grown up, that it’s prepared to take on this new and weighty responsibility.

We still take in the news we need next to epidemiologists’ analyses next to anxiety posts next to sexy selfies from friends and celebrities who haven’t toned down their online personas to align with the soberness the headlines demand.

You have to sort through the posts and vet them on your own. Even a checkmark isn’t enough for what I seek, which is reassurance that someone’s in charge. Kerry Washington is wonderful, but should we be heeding her coronavirus advice? (Should we be following the president’s?)

Twitter suffers from its usual cesspool dynamics, but they’re now amplified by the crisis: people posting carelessly about their right to do whatever they want, other people yelling at them, still other people sharing their reasons for panic, all contributing to our mounting anxiety.

TikTok’s memes, in contrast, have been a delightful unifier since the virus sent much of China into lockdown this winter.