An epidemic is spreading like wildfire across the globe, targeting adolescents left and right. Teens everywhere are trapped in a zombie-like trance; conversations in reality have ceased to exist. The light in their eyes has been replaced by a glassy finish and their noses are constantly glued to cracked screens. The plague of the 21st century is upon us, and the cause is none other than social media.

While social media was introduced as a form of international connectivity and creative expression amongst angst-filled teenagers, it has quickly become an obsession over who can receive the most likes on a photo or how many people you can match with on Tinder. Since 95% of teenagers in the United States have internet access, it’s no surprise that 83% of them are using social media websites and applications like Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. These statistics are rapidly increasing as time goes on; in fact, just 10 years ago, only 55% of adolescents were using social media. With teens checking their profiles and news feeds at least five times a day on average, I often wondered how this affects us. The answer? Negatively.

Using social media so often leaves us subject to the negative opinions of others who hide behind a screen. No matter your level of self-esteem, body dissatisfaction can occur because of the omnipresence of the thin ideal for women or the muscular ideal for men. What’s worse is that conversation has stopped; whether it be at the dinner table or hanging out with friends, it seems as if all we do (and yes, I am guilty of this, as well) is incessantly stare at our phone screens. We are all morphing into the same zombies that walk around outside without any appreciation for the world around us. But I’m here to tell you that this isn’t healthy. You have a life to live and people to love, all of which are in real time, not stuck behind the screen of a tiny phone.

With that being said, I decided it was time to tell my cell phone and its applications how I really felt. I urge you all to do the same.

To My Dearest Cell Phone,

It’s been a good two years. When we first got together, I was ecstatic. I was finally like everyone else; I was connected to the wonderful world of text messages and social media galore. I had never been in a group chat before; talking to all of my friends at once was pure ecstasy. I could join the world of Instagram and snap artsy pictures of nature, food, and friends. I could even give in to the selfie craze, although your rectangular body has proudly never been in a selfie stick.

It was love at first swipe. But then things changed. Suddenly, for no reason at all, I would begin to feel the dire urge to have you in my hand. I began checking my notifications every five minutes, trying to satisfy a craving that just wouldn’t end. Even when I didn’t have 50 unreasonable texts in the group chat, or 10 Snapchat notifications, I found myself scrolling through the same boring Instagram or Facebook feed, waiting for something new to be posted. It was as if merely swiping my thumb across your screen was a drug that I couldn’t resist.

Slowly, but surely, my love for you was becoming addictive and your presence overbearing, not just in my life, but in the life of my family and friends. My friends and I would be conversing when your magical touch would pull me away from the conversation. Moments later, laughter would interrupt our intimate Instagram sessions and I would discover that I had not only missed an important part of the story, but I had missed a happy moment, a passing, fleeting moment -- a laugh that would never happen again. I would find myself taking photos, not for memory’s sake, but because of its Instagram worth. Scrolling through my news feed, I wondered why my body was so different than the ones on my screen. Was I supposed to look like them? Suddenly, every tender touch gave me pessimistic thoughts. Was this any way to live?

And yet, I was hooked. I couldn’t stop looking,

touching,

liking,

scrolling,

posting, until --

Boom.

I bumped into someone because my nose and fingers were glued to you. The embarrassment I felt in that moment from his annoyance was more than I could handle. That was the final straw; it was my wake-up call. No longer will my fingers urge to touch you. I will not give in to your neediness. Instagram can wait. So can those fifty absurd text messages in the group chat that is, quite frankly, annoying. I will be engaged in the present and live in this moment, because while Instagram will be there in two hours, this conversation with my loved ones with smiles, laughter, and love will not. I want to be in control of my life; I only get one chance on this vast, beautiful Earth, and I refuse to let you confine me to a 2.5” x 5” inch screen.

I’m sorry, I can’t hear you. I think we’re… brea -- eeaa --kkk --ing… up.

Yours truly,
Girl taking her life back.