It was Christmas day, and the mysterious package was finally his hands from his parents. This package of the worlds most powerful, most captivating, most addictive drug, Charlie cradled in between his arms as if to protect it from others who may snatch it away. Ripping the carefully wrapped box open, Charlie ogled at his precious new treasure: his first smartphone; and as Golem did with his ring, Charlie held his phone up to his face and allowed the spontaneity of Twitter, the procrastination of Netflix, and the limitless interactions of Facebook fill not only his mind, but his soul. Little did he know that his parents have brought him into the parasitic world of an inescapable hyperreality we call the internet. To this hyperbolic story we
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In me, there is a Charlie who devourers an unopened package because my old phone fails to give me the high I used to feel. In me, there is a Charlie who can barely escape the other ultraconvenient dimension my phone easily allows me to enter. When I look at my phone I see a city of entertainment, where the movie theatre, a social gathering site, and an amusement park full of games are concentrated into a single street - no longer do I need to drive to see a movie, all I need to do is swipe. It is this convenience, this effortless form of communication and entertainment, which I now prefer over going to someone’s house. Once, I even declined an offer to the theatre because of my laziness and preference of my bed and phone rather than real human interaction. At one point my mother begged the question, “is there more to life than your phone,” critiquing the worship and overuse of this drug. After a week of sudden realization of my habits and abstinence from my phone, I immediately relapsed and desperately tried to justify, like everyone else, how the convenience of it gives credit to its use. I was thus addicted to the soaring amount of likes on my profile picture and the triple digit friend count I had on Facebook as I refreshed the page to update my like count - a scalar quantity which is now a metric for popularity. Therefore to this day, I still fail to escape this inner city of Twitter within my phone so much so I need a dose of my phone every hour no matter what the situation or circumstance. Through school, if I could take a hit I would do so in class. A my mom, a warrior from a time where phones didn 't exist, gives me such a powerful intervention and freed me from the restraints of my phone. My addiction turned into recreation of this warp gate into the binary planet of Facebook, Hulu, and Youtube, but forever I will crave my phone. They say that my phone wont kill me physically, but they fail to realize that it will wreck my soul
In me, there is a Charlie who devourers an unopened package because my old phone fails to give me the high I used to feel. In me, there is a Charlie who can barely escape the other ultraconvenient dimension my phone easily allows me to enter. When I look at my phone I see a city of entertainment, where the movie theatre, a social gathering site, and an amusement park full of games are concentrated into a single street - no longer do I need to drive to see a movie, all I need to do is swipe. It is this convenience, this effortless form of communication and entertainment, which I now prefer over going to someone’s house. Once, I even declined an offer to the theatre because of my laziness and preference of my bed and phone rather than real human interaction. At one point my mother begged the question, “is there more to life than your phone,” critiquing the worship and overuse of this drug. After a week of sudden realization of my habits and abstinence from my phone, I immediately relapsed and desperately tried to justify, like everyone else, how the convenience of it gives credit to its use. I was thus addicted to the soaring amount of likes on my profile picture and the triple digit friend count I had on Facebook as I refreshed the page to update my like count - a scalar quantity which is now a metric for popularity. Therefore to this day, I still fail to escape this inner city of Twitter within my phone so much so I need a dose of my phone every hour no matter what the situation or circumstance. Through school, if I could take a hit I would do so in class. A my mom, a warrior from a time where phones didn 't exist, gives me such a powerful intervention and freed me from the restraints of my phone. My addiction turned into recreation of this warp gate into the binary planet of Facebook, Hulu, and Youtube, but forever I will crave my phone. They say that my phone wont kill me physically, but they fail to realize that it will wreck my soul