Hello, my name is Ryan Ginsberg, and I am a phone addict.
First off, I would like to say that I hate my phone. I hate everything about it. I hate how accessible everything, but reality, is on it. I hate how with a click of a button I can be bombarded with tweets, snapchats, instagrams, news articles, google searches, Tinder matches, and everything else but human connection. But, even though my veins fill with nothing but hate, I cannot help but stare mindlessly into the soul of my phone.
Every time my thumb swipes up on my newsfeed I am rewarded with new nuggets of information. Any thought that pops into the head of a friend, a celebrity, or my coworker's cousin's mom's dog is neatly organized and readily available to me at all times in a tightly constructed 140 character blurb. And all it costs me is my time.
One swipe turns into another and another and another. Then I open up a different app and swipe until I've seen it all. Then I open up another app and the cycle continues.
I look out my window and see that the sun is no longer high in the sky, but rather the moon has taken its place. I look at my life and see that I have accomplished nothing more than reading the thoughts and observing the lives of others, while having no thoughts or experiences of my own.
And, even though I realize that these moments staring at a small screen are a complete waste, I cannot help but continue to do so. I am addicted.
I have tried many techniques to get over this addiction. I have deleted every app and every social media account that I have, only to find myself desperately attempting to get them back only moments later. I have tried leaving my phone in a drawer, in another room, in my car, but I always find myself just moving into the location of my phone and staring down at the screen.
No matter where my phone goes, I follow.
I have even tried burying the phone in a ditch fifteen states removed from where I currently live, only to find myself on a plane to that priorly mentioned state with nothing more than a shovel and a craving in my fingers to swipe once more. After the plane lands, I shove every man, woman, child, dog, and horse drawn chariot out of my way as I sprint to the place where my phone is buried. I find the "x" that marks the spot and begin to dig and dig and dig, until I have the phone once again in my hand... My phone is dead.
I approach the first car that I see, stab the driver, and steal the car. I make my way to the nearest Apple store, I can sniff them out at this point. I run inside, shove the door greeter to the ground, all I can think about is charging my phone. I find the nearest charger, a kid is using it, but I shove that kid to the ground, too. There is no time to look for another charger, I need it more than he does. I plug my phone in, wait the ridiculous amount of time it takes to turn on, then, finally, I am blessed with the overly bright white screen with the apple logo in the middle. My phone turns on and I quickly click the first app that I see, Twitter. The blue screen glows angelically, then I am face to face with my newsfeed.
I swipe, I swipe, I swipe, I swipe.
And all it ever cost me was time.