My phone is a source of joy and of utter misery in my life. I am totally dependent on it, yet I loathe it. It’s like a weight in my pocket that whispers “Hey girl, why don’t you just take a peek at Facebook? What if you miss something important? You’ll be prettier if you check Tinder.”
I don’t want to be so attached to this damn device but I literally use it for everything.
I use it to get from point A to point B, to stalk my high school crush, to screen every date I go on, to research high-brow subjects such as “Ashton Kutcher shirtless”, to lose at fantasy football, to listen to Ty Dolla $ign on repeat, to practice Spanish on the toilet, to swipe right if he has a dog, to laugh at cats that are scared of toasters, to spend way too much money on makeup I will never use, to pay overdue credit card bills for said makeup, to track my sleep habits, to stay up all night reading about sleep habits, to research the most effective sleep medications, to follow Victoria’s Secret on Instagram, to feel bad about myself, to binge watch Shameless, to feel good about myself, to pin motivational quotes that make me feel like the motherfucking Dalai Lama, and to listen to a plethora of podcasts including “My Dad Wrote a Porno“.
As you can see, I am at a crossroads… How do you set boundaries with an inanimate object?
Should I just give in and let this cell phone control my life? Or should I build a tiny boat, send it out to sea, and shoot flaming arrows Game of Thrones funeral style? There HAS to be an app for that.
For now, I will drink wine and focus on my other obsession; my laptop.