On a 20-minute Friday night bus ride from New York to New Jersey, it all occurred to me, I'm attached to my cell phone and I don't know what to do without it. Staring out the window seems childlike and the chances of my eyes landing on a complete stranger are way too high on this crowded bus. The bus is a completely different atmosphere than my typical Metro North ride.

It's cramped and uncomfortable. There aren't passengers having a conference call on their phones that should've been finished before they left the office. There aren't people standing by the doors naturally flaunting their Gucci handbag or briefcase. Instead, I'm pushed up next to the window touching thighs with a man who's publicly swiping left and right on Tinder, just as addicted to the social activity on his cell phone as I am.

I think the real question is when did this even begin? I got my first iPhone in high school. It was a big step for my parents who knew how irresponsible and naive I was. But even at that age I wasn't necessarily attached. Yes, I could've spent hours watching Netflix, playing games or scrolling through social media but back then, I didn't have to. In high school, I spent more time paying attention in class, successfully completing assignments, excitedly dreaming about leaving the suburbs for college and going out with my friends that I didn't even need to preoccupy myself with my cool new iPhone.

Nowadays, I absolutely need my iPhone even for simple tasks, such as remembering to take my pill, tracking my sleep and daily steps, and to create reminders for things that I should have memorized. My iPhone is an extension of me. There are apps all catered to my preferences, several alarms set for my dreadful morning routine and a camera roll filled with screenshots and selfies from good and bad moments. I manage to keep my Metrocard and college ID in the back of my case, another reason to always keep this device at hand.

The thought of losing this oh-so-precious form of communication and connectivity is scary. There was a time in which I disconnected from my cell phone for 24 hours and it was easy considering the fact that I stayed home for that time with access to a television. What's not easy is having to spend time with people without your phone. It's something I haven't tried for 24 hours. But how can that be? How can it be more difficult to not have a cell phone and be surrounded by people?

Unsurprisingly, we seek the solidarity and solace that our cell phones provide us with. We can avoid nearly every uncomfortable or awkward situation by sticking in our headphones, turning up our music and mindlessly scrolling through our News Feed (as if we care to read more garbage about Mr. number 45). Just like that, we are invincible, not always by speaking up or by walking away, but by using the one device we will always have in our back pocket.

These devices are dangerously powerful, sometimes saving us and sometimes not. Cell phones are obviously useful and at this point so close to becoming a necessity. They give us directions, they help us get into contact with others, we get to save pictures and videos in this "cloud" and we can do it all on the go through a conveniently sized and stylish device.

The definitive answer to how attached to our iPhones can we be, is when you run off the bus scrambling through your travel bag trying to find your phone just to immediately text the first person you see and then retell the story of the guy on Tinder. If your greatest thoughts are preoccupied with checking your cell phone, you are attached.