It was Wednesday night in February, and my work load had just started to pick up and become overwhelming. I spent almost five hours in the library that cold, rainy night with nothing to show. Despite the 15-page paper I had due that week and the online quiz I had been putting off that was due the next day, I somehow found a way to spend the entire time on social media. Eyes glazed over, I scrolled through endless pictures, statuses and videos. Before I knew it, the library was closing.

As I laid in bed later that night, my eyes begged me to let them close, but the glow of the screen on my phone demanded they stay open. I kept on refreshing and refreshing Instagram only to continue to see the same picture of someone's ugly-looking dog with the hashtag "cuddlebuddy." The next morning at breakfast, I asked my friend Bailee if she had seen my tweet about not being able to concentrate on homework. As I stared closer into her eyes, I saw the reflection of the Kim Kardashian game as she played it on her phone, only half listening to what I was saying. I sent her aggressive Snapchats until she paid attention to me.

Clearly, I had a crippling addiction to social media, and something had to be done about it. I vowed to not use social media indefinitely. I deleted the apps off my phone and the bookmarks off my laptop. Unbeknownst to me, it happened to be the first day of Lent. I probably would have known via Facebook status about "Taking a break from Facebook for Lent :) message me if you want to contact me :) goodbye Facebook!" statuses had I not started my indefinite break earlier that day. It was pointed out to me by a friend, and that's when I decided the next time I'd see hashtag would be Easter.

After a difficult yet surprisingly productive first day, this first crisis hit. A death in the family occurred...it was my Macbook Pro. It fell off my bed and was left unresponsive. It was late at night, so the Mac hospital wasn't open. I called a friend over who knew a thing or two about computers and told her it was an emergency. She said my Mac might not make it. We held a vigil on my balcony. I took it to the Apple Store the next day, and after careful surgery, it was resuscitated (thank God!) but it had lost some memory. It'll survive, but it won't remember anything. My iPhone has no idea. How will they ever recognize each other again? They used to connect so easily. It was so sudden.

In our time without social media, my friend Avery (who also took a break from social media) and I kept a thought journal of our experiences:

Day 1: When I unlock my phone and see I have no calls or messages, my thumbs feel like they just walked into a room and forgot what they are doing. They just scroll over each home page, then flail, hovering over the screen until I lock my phone again.

Day 3: Strong and motivated at first, but when I stare at my empty home screen long enough for it to go black, I see my desperate reflection staring back at me and am reminded that I have a long journey ahead of me.

Day 4: Today a boy I never text back texted me. And when he texted me today, I was so bored that I…replied.

Day 6: I keep having dreams about my phone lighting up with notifications. Then as I jolt awake at the end of each dream, I check my phone only to see my blank phone screen.

Day 9: It has felt like I have forgotten what my face looks like, but today, I realized I’ve just forgotten what my edited face looks like. It’s a harsh reality.

Day 10: It always seems as if the most Snapchat-able moments happen when we least expect it. This is proving truer and truer every day.

Day 13: It “snowed” today and I am too cold to go outside, but I can’t see who is slipping and who thinks this half-inch layer of ice that canceled school is a stroke of magic or a pitiful overreaction.

Day 14: Right now I’m in between sitting there staring at my phone in my free time and getting up and doing something. So, lately, I’ve just been sitting a lot.

Day 18: I made myself fat using the fat booth app again. It's one of the only sources of entertainment my phone has to offer. Shame level: (?)

Day 20: I started a conversation with "So I was looking at my Google Drive feed today and..." and then stopped to save myself from further embarrassment. My Google Drive feed is the only news feed I have access to right now.

Day 22: There’s an app called Venmo and it's not meant for it, but I check it like it’s social media to feel something again.

Day 25: Zayn Malik dropped out of pop group One Direction and I didn’t know for a full four hours. If I knew earlier...could I have stopped it?

Day 28: I wake up and read the news. Middle Eastern conflicts are interesting, but what’s the new Starbucks seasonal latte flavor?

Day 29: WHAT? Muse dropped an album?!! I should have known so I could talk about it and not actually listen to it.

It didn't happen until after the first week or so, but I felt a change take place. Feeling yourself change is uncomfortable, awkward and weird. It feels like the clothes that you've been wearing for years are starting to fit wrong all of a sudden. I was playing the ukulele more, napping regularly, and I was more refreshed when I woke up than I had been in my whole life. I worked out more, and music became more important to me. I suddenly began to be able to concentrate on writing for long periods of time. My attention span, previously approximately 2.75 minutes long had been lengthened to a whopping 12.1 minutes.

I was getting work done easily. I was happy all the time, and for no reason at all, I was able to connect with other people more closely. I had experiences that I know would have been completely ruined had social media been a part of it.

As I rode in the car, I stopped looking at filtered pictures of the sunset and started looking at the actual sunset. It was the part of the year when it was warm in the daytime but cold at night. That, I realized, was something that couldn't be captured even in a NatGeo Instagram post. I could not recommend anything more. If it's for one day or one year, taking a break from social media will only enhance your life, as it did mine.