Have you ever wondered why we are all so obsessed with technology?
Look around you right now, everyone is on a laptop, a mobile, a tablet.
They are immersed in their own little world, oblivious to all than transpires around them.
It's like an addiction, a disease, and I need to cure myself.
I am a technology addict.
I desire it, I obsesses over it.
I have gone days without sleeping or eating when I am gaming.
I lose whole weekends watching YouTube videos.
My every thought and action are visible to the whole world on a dozen social media applications
that I update endlessly.
I lost my girlfriend to my addiction a few months ago and I am determined to win her back.
She told me that if I can go 8 weeks without technology she will think about getting back
together with me.
I've made the decision to try an intensive, cold turkey style, technology detox.
I thought it would be cool to keep a diary of it and share it here with my NoSleep buddies.
Come on my NoSleep brothers and sisters, help out one of your biggest fans and support me
on my technology detox.
OK, let me start with the 'rules'.
1 - I can work on my laptop for up to 8 hours a day, no more.
I don't want to be unemployed as well as single do I!
2 – I can use my mobile for phone calls and important texts only.
At 7:00PM it gets locked away until 7:00 the next morning.
3 – I am replacing technology with wholesome, healthy activities.
I'm going to exercise for at least an hour a day, read instead of watching YouTube fail vids, and
I'm even going to try meditation to replace the hours I waste on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.
Wish me luck!
This is HAAAARD!
I have been so twitchy.
I have been walking to work and back which has been quite nice, apart from Wednesday
when it rained.
I'm so desperate to go online, I keep reaching for my phone but I've pretty much stayed
on the wagon, just one minor blip--
on Thursday when I jumped on NoSleep on my mobile and
read a couple of stories (they were amazing by the way) and it was 8:45 before I locked
away my mobile.
I've started reading a paperback called Dune by Frank Herbert.
Guys, if you haven't read this book it's amazing, you have to check it out.
I'm finding meditating tough.
My mind wanders so easily, but I'm determined to keep going.
I rang my ex to tell her, she seemed pleased I was giving it a go so that's given me
a lot of hope.
I'm calling week 1 a success.
I went for a run this week, twice!
Not too far, just 3 miles but I'm suitably smug about it.
I listened to Spotify on my first run then realized that was tech.
I'm getting much better at meditating.
I can go for about 7 minutes at a time now.
That doesn't sound like much, but try it;
it feels like an awfully long time when all you are doing is sitting and breathing.
I look like a different person already.
My complexion is not as sallow and pale.
I'm out in the sun 3-4 hours a week now, with walking and running.
I've started to lose a bit of weight, but there's this weird red dot on the tip of
my right thumb?
Sleep was always a problem for me.
I used to wake several times a night and jump straight on my phone, often spending hours
on social media.
My sleep is already getting better but I've started to dream.
I never used to, I don't think I was ever asleep unbroken long enough to.
It's a vivid recurring scene, I'm sitting in a room with my friends and we're all talking.
Slowly the conversation drifts away from me, my friends stop hearing then seeing me.
I shout and scream and shake them but it's like I've stopped existing to them.
Freudian huh?
No blips this week but serious cravings and my resolve has been tested many times.
On a couple of mornings when I woke up my mobile was next to my bed instead of downstairs.
I must have forgotten to lock it away at night.
I think the honeymoon is over.
I REALLY want to go online, I'm obsessing about it.
Everything was going so well for the first two weeks.
Week three has not been pleasant.
It started with the headache on Monday, dull at first but ever present.
The stomach cramps and nausea are worse than the headaches.
They seem to subside when I am at work on my laptop but the rest of the time I feel rotten.
I still managed to get out for a run but just the one.
I was hoping to build on last week, not go backwards.
The healthy glow I was starting to see in the mirror last week is less evident now.
I have the mother of all zits forming just above my left eyebrow.
What am I, a teenager?
Maybe I'm getting ill?
On Thursday morning I woke up on my sofa instead of my bed; the TV was on in the background.
I must have crashed out after work.
I turned the TV off as soon as I woke up but ended up flicking back on.
My headache is crippling now and the TV took my mind off it for a while.
I called in sick to work on Friday.
I've caught myself on a couple of occasions just staring at my phone.
I have to leave it out of reach at work otherwise I keep finding it in my hand.
It's getting harder and harder not to just jump online and check Facebook.
The weird red dots are on the tips of most of my fingers now.
I started to feel a little better after Friday of last week, maybe the illness has passed?
I'm back on with the meditation but when I'm just sitting with my own thoughts, it just
draws my attention to my headache and turns it from a dull background pain to a sharp,
blinding agony.
My zit is growing, it's going to be a monster.
I tried squeezing it but it's bloody painful.
I think I'll leave it until it forms a proper head before popping it.
As the week has gone on the nausea and cramps have come back.
When I started this process, I called it a detox, but it really is starting to feel like
I'm coming off heroin or something.
I'm sweating then shivering and I have cravings.
I'm desperate to look at my phone and check in on social media.
My dream is really getting to me, it's like my subconscious is talking to me.
Not interacting with people on social media has made me realize how I don't have
any real-world friends.
I woke up on Saturday morning and my bed was covered in blood.
When I tried to get out of bed a burning pain flared up on the soles of my feet.
They're shredded and filled with tiny shards of glass.
I think I've pieced together what must have happened.
I obviously got up in the middle of the night to get myself a glass of water from
the kitchen and dropped the glass, smashing it on the wooden floor and lacerating my feet.
It's odd, though.
There was no spilt water, just broken glass, and looking at the trail of bloody footprints, it almost
looks like I walked repeatedly back and forth through the shards.
I don't think I could have damaged my feet more if I'd deliberately tried to.
That's unfortunately put the walking and running on hold.
One other weird thing.
I keep finding tiny, shriveled black hairs all over the house.
They aren't mine.
It's getting tough NoSleep, please keep sending me your positive thoughts.
The cravings are unbearable.
I haven't been able to go into work all week.
I mostly lie on the sofa shaking.
My every thought is consumed by technology.
My skull is itching on the inside and it feels like my brain is burning.
I so desperately want to go online, I know it would make the pain and the aching, desire go away.
When I read, my eyes stream and the words are blurred.
Meditation is agony, it seems to focus the pain around my eyes, they feel like they are
going to burst.
My zit is the size of a grape,.
In a desperate attempt to relieve the brutal pain in my forehead, I squeeze and squeeze, screaming in pain
until it bursts.
A hard-black ball the size of a pea fires out, bouncing off my bathroom mirror and rolling
down the sink before I can catch it.
The black hairs are all over the house now.
The tiny red sores are all around the edges of my eyes, on my fingertips and even on my tongue now.
They look like infected hair follicles and in my dreams the black hairs sprout from them
like questing antenna while my conscious mind takes refuge from the constant blinding
pain I'm in.
Three nights in a row, I wake up at my kitchen table.
My laptop is on and my phone is in my hand.
I don't remember any of it, but I've made hundreds of posts in the night all on my social
media accounts.
They are bizarre, insane things.
Vile insults to some of my closest online friends and colleagues, and outlandish lies.
As a result, my accounts have gone into meltdown with the amount of furious and worried replies
I receive.
I revel in how good it feels; at least my dreams about being invisible to my friends
aren't likely to come true now.
My headaches lessen a little.
I get a letter from work telling me my contract has been terminated.
It hardly seems to matter.
I've come so far on this detox that I can't stop now, despite everything that is happening to me.
If only I could remember why I started doing this in the first place?
I'm lying curled up in a ball shaking.
I have no idea how long I have been like this.
The universe has contracted to be nothing more than two opposing forces.
My burning, insatiable desire to go online and my resolute will to see this thing through
to the end.
I can no longer trust my body or my senses, so I take matters into my own hands.
I take a hammer to my laptop and phone and smash them to pieces.
It's the only way to guarantee I won't succumb to the cravings.
I'm vomiting now, blood and bile and a cloudy grey fluid filled with tiny black hairs.
I'm so weak I could scarcely move even if my feet weren't covered in agonizing infected cuts.
I think my addiction is going to kill me.
I would welcome death.
The spot over my left eye is swollen and engorged.
It bursts, spilling forth a foul smelling yellow puss and dozens of tiny black balls.
In my fever dream they unfurl, tiny black filament hairs dragging them out of a primordial
soup of my blood and puss.
They skitter away, heading for the nearest darkness.
I spend the rest of the week weeping.
I'm staring in the mirror, scalpel in hand.
The pain behind my left eye so crippling that the cold kiss of the razor sharp steel will
be a welcome relief.
As I raise the blade I see the skin around my forehead, cheek and eyesocket pulse and shift.
My tear duct suddenly sprouts a thousand black filament hairs.
They stretch and probe, reaching out to grip my face, the basin taps anything they can find.
I'm paralyzed with fear as something begins to pull itself through my eyesocket.
A flash of pain then a wet, red explosion as my eyeball pops.
I scream.
Its path suddenly frees as the horror drags itself out of my skull, a ball-like body and
a monstrous tail adorned with a cruel needle with sharp hooks trailing a ruin of gore, and gray
brain matter behind it.
I lose consciousness and perhaps my mind.
My ex-girlfriend comes to see me in the secure psychiatric ward.
Speech is difficult for me and my brain works slower now, making it hard to find the words.
I told her that we can get back together now.
I beat my addiction.
She cries and strokes my hair when I tell her she looks just as pretty through one eye.
I think her tears are of pity, not love.
No one seems to believe me about what happened.
About the creature living in my brain, the real source of my addiction.
How it made me crave the constant stream of data, fed on it.
How it bred in my brain and multiplied sending out its young to enslave more minds.
I shudder when I think about my old commute to work, surrounded by strangers with their
heads down, each a slave to the tiny electrical device in their hand and the monster it is feeding.
I no longer care.
I'm free of my addiction, and my mind is at peace.
Thank you for your help NoSleep, I couldn't have done it without you.
I'm glad you read my diary but please take care.
Stop now If you feel the urge, the craving, the obsessive desire for just
one more story.
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