I woke up without stretching my hand towards the phone. Every morning, after my eyes open and blurred mind becomes conscious of the word surrounding, I step out of bed and reach for my phone. I press the power on the right hand top and wait for it to turn on, while getting changed in the cold dark room on an early morning.
When did this become a routine? I can’t remember, when I even started using social media and drowning in the abundances of information. There was this sense of “must”, it started weighing too much in my life. I made friends through twitter and Instagram and I write a lot online. I read columns, essays, even fictional stories online, and the never ending production of all types of media ranging from texts to visual and sound.
Think back to before all this chaos came along. I got my first mobile phone when I was around 13 or 14. I wasn’t addicted like now, it was an old type of phone with bad internet and mainly used for texting and calling my parents after school to pick me up.
I was never fond of texting either although I was an awkward being when it came to talking face to face. Everyone sent each other unbelievably short messages which I never understood, why even bother to send such reply at all if it’s only yes or no, how could you possibly know what they are thinking at all? Texting made me uneasy in some way, although I participated, the distance and the read-between-the-text was all too much for me.
After I got an iPhone however, things changed. I became addicted to social media. The lonely teenager, with a space to connect with billions instantaneously was all too fascinating. It was around then, I started my own blog, twitter and Instagram. I made friends through such places, some I met and are still friends with until now. Other, who are just a spectator of the cut out part of my life, the more time passed, a sense of uncertainty started to arise.
All I wanted to reach for someone.
Someone who I could speak about my crappy life, the embarrassment of not being able to fit in a world where people seem to glide through with such ease, why am I struggling? That teenage anguish, and but not limited to this age, but a constant search for a place to settle your soul, somewhere and someone. I wasn’t reaching for my phone at all. You know that.