Internet addiction is real, and I can feel it happening right here, in my hands, in a sleek white device in a bright yellow case. Sometimes it feels almost impossible to put the phone down, to pick up a novel in hard copy, to work on assignments, to study for an upcoming test. It makes me feel extremely guilty, but, as all addictions do, I can't stop.
It wouldn't matter how many times I have swiped the timeline on Twitter to refresh for new tweets, refreshed YouTube for new videos from subscribed channels, refreshed Facebook for latest news, refreshed Instagram for more photos. Sometimes I get so bored of the social networks that I move on to Thought Catalog, Buzzfeed, 9gag, for some quick entertainment. It's as if my life depended on the events in other people's lives. It's as if I couldn't survive without a few comments and likes on updates from friends.
It's as if I can't live without the internet.
Sometimes I get mad at myself. I get mad that I'm so weak, for letting the internet ru(i)n my life. Sometimes I throw my phone onto my bed when I'm studying, to intentionally keep my phone out of sight. But half an hour later, I'm on my bed, opening the Twitter app. It's crazy. Crazy serious, that is. And I'm desperate to get out of it.
Then here comes my fake escape. I make myself feel better by watching educational videos on YouTube, reminding myself with the fact that I'm technically not wasting any time if I'm learning something. I make myself feel better by writing on my blog, reminding myself with the fact that I'm technically not wasting any time if I'm honing my writing skills. I try hard, but I fail.
I feel like I've written the exact post before, and I'm not sure if it's a deja vu, or if I've been facing this problem for way too long. Technology advancement is great; the internet is the discovery that the world is certainly proud of, but it destroys me. It destroys my mind, destroys my faith, destroys my diligence. It destroys all intention of working toward excellence, but instead, I carelessly go through work so that I could get some relief from the vast cyberspace.
It's bad.
I've been on internet fasts before. The hand-tingling, self-controlling moments in which I struggle to not touch the Enable Wi-Fi button in iPhone settings. The mask I put on to show the world that I'm doing fine without the internet, but inside I'm thinking over and over again about what I could've watched on YouTube. It's indeed scary, once I write my experiences in black and white, but it's true.
It's true.
Of course, it may seem a little dramatic to you when you read the above words. And yes, I do not spazz or freak out when there isn't any internet access. Also, it wouldn't be fair for me to diagnose myself with actual internet addiction. But the problem is, once I start, it's not easy to stop. After a long, busy day out, I reach home, plop on the couch, connect to the internet, notifications start coming in, all else is forgotten. I can't believe I'm admitting all this, but as everyone seems to claim, admitting a problem is the first step to fixing it.
Sometimes when I catch myself staring at a screen for over two hours, the rational side of my brain tells me to stop. To stop completely, to get my eyes some rest, at least. But the part of my being that's being pulled by the gravity of cyberspace refuses to leave the amazing world of the internet. It is then I realize something is terribly wrong with myself, my eyes start to hurt, the words on the screen start to blur, and my head throbs.
It's scary.
But what calms me is the fact that it is fixable. I just need to seek help. Not professional help, necessarily; that would be a step too far. I just need to ask parents, friends, whoever reliable, to be right next to me, distracting me from my distraction. With good, wholesome conversations and healthy activities with loved ones, it is where I find myself completely rid of this sick attachment to the internet. And I hope I do eventually escape this cyber reality.
For good.