The most addictive thing about the internet is the fact that at some point, being online becomes as automatic and as natural as breathing. I don't really have to talk to anyone, or message anyone, or email anyone. I don't even need to do anything online, see. No need to read blogs, or browse sites, or search for information, or do the wiki.
The only thing I need is to be there. I sign into gmail as soon as I switch on the computer, not because I'm desperately wanting conversations (well, at least, not all the time) but rather because I want to be available for any that happen by. I want to stay connected.
I once decided to go a week without signing in, because I felt there was too much time being wasted merely in the exchanging of platitudes with people who lived in the same city that I was in, and conversing for hours with people whom I'd never met and was likely never to meet, either. I went almost six days before I broke down, but I did manage to stay away, see. The difference was that it was my decision, yes? Not some faulty electronic modulator-demodulator that decided to die on me and leave me stranded high and dry with a game leg and no internet connection.
The last three days have been hard.
Hard enough to get me calling people on STD numbers from the landline because of how much I missed talking to them. Hard enough to have me watching television to drown out the whining voices in my head - especially the ones cursing international time zones. Hard enough to send me out of the house and hobbling towards a neighbourhood internet parlour and one glorious hour of internet.
Yes, I'm addicted, yes I am.
I just missed being able to reach out and touch someone.
It's just that... once you've been connected, how can you possibly bear not to be?
The only thing I need is to be there. I sign into gmail as soon as I switch on the computer, not because I'm desperately wanting conversations (well, at least, not all the time) but rather because I want to be available for any that happen by. I want to stay connected.
I once decided to go a week without signing in, because I felt there was too much time being wasted merely in the exchanging of platitudes with people who lived in the same city that I was in, and conversing for hours with people whom I'd never met and was likely never to meet, either. I went almost six days before I broke down, but I did manage to stay away, see. The difference was that it was my decision, yes? Not some faulty electronic modulator-demodulator that decided to die on me and leave me stranded high and dry with a game leg and no internet connection.
The last three days have been hard.
Hard enough to get me calling people on STD numbers from the landline because of how much I missed talking to them. Hard enough to have me watching television to drown out the whining voices in my head - especially the ones cursing international time zones. Hard enough to send me out of the house and hobbling towards a neighbourhood internet parlour and one glorious hour of internet.
Yes, I'm addicted, yes I am.
I just missed being able to reach out and touch someone.
It's just that... once you've been connected, how can you possibly bear not to be?
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