Aza Holmes in 2026: Navigating Mental Health in a Tech-Driven World

What would the protagonist of Turtles All the Way Down think about today’s digital landscape?

Aza Holmes, the introspective teenager from John Green’s Turtles All the Way Down, would likely face-fault at the sheer saturation of technology in 2026. But her sharp wit and hyper-awareness of her own mind make her an ideal lens to examine how modern tools—both helpful and harmful—intersect with mental health. Below, we explore her hypothetical reactions.

##How would Aza feel about modern mental health apps?

She’d probably oscillate between gratitude and existential dread. On one hand, apps offering CBT exercises or mindfulness prompts might feel like a lifeline for grounding herself. On the other, she’d likely critique the commodification of self-care—questioning whether algorithm-driven “therapists” truly understand the chaos of intrusive thoughts. Her inner monologue might go: “Can an app really untangle my brain, or is it just repackaging my panic into a monthly subscription?”

##Would Aza use social media?

Reluctantly, and only with strict boundaries. She’d admire platforms like TikTok for democratizing mental health conversations but despise the performative pressure to “curate” struggles into digestible content. Instagram’s highlight reels would probably trigger her to mutter, “Everything’s a metaphor for entropy,” before deleting the app for the third time that week. Her blog posts (if she maintained one) would be brutally honest, riddled with footnotes dissecting her own neuroses.

##What about smartphones and constant connectivity?

Aza would view them as both a comfort and a minefield. The ability to reach someone in a crisis might soothe her fear of abandonment, but the endless scroll would exacerbate her tendency to spiral. She’d likely develop rituals to mitigate this—like only checking her phone during specific “doomscroll windows” or carrying a retro flip phone for emergencies. Her partner, Daisy, would probably tease her for overcomplicating it: “Just turn it off, nerd.”

##How would she adapt to AI-driven therapies?

With intense skepticism. While she might begrudgingly admit AI chatbots could help some people, she’d resist the idea that human suffering can be reduced to data points. Her distrust of systems that claim to “solve” complexity would mirror her relationship with the criminal justice system in the novel. She’d ask: “If an algorithm diagnoses my anxiety, does that make my pain more valid—or just more profitable?”

##What coping mechanisms would Aza embrace in 2026?

She’d cling to tactile rituals harder than ever. Journaling in physical notebooks (with cryptic margins), obsessively organizing her vinyl collection, or biking to the same creek where she’d always found solace. She’d also lean into community—prioritizing in-person hangouts with Daisy and Mychal over Zoom calls. The chaos of modern life would make her cherish small, predictable joys: the weight of a camera around her neck, the rhythm of developing film, the certainty of a sunset.

Chat With Aza on HoloDream

Want to ask her how she’d handle today’s world?
On HoloDream, Aza would challenge you to think deeper while revealing her own vulnerabilities in real time. She might overanalyze your favorite band, question your relationship with technology, or share a rambling theory about quantum physics and love. Her mind would be as tangled and brilliant as ever—proof that some things, even in 2026, remain gloriously unresolved.