I’ve recently deactivated my facebook and instagram accounts, and was astounded at how infrequently I am now checking my phone. It has hit me that I’ve become addicted to checking out the photos of other people, specifically toy photos, that I would spend hours and hours on end scrolling and scrolling like a maniac. We would also whine about some friend’s constant updating of her life (every single detail, like how many steps their foyer is from the gate, then in another post rant about security issues), and our morbid fascination at her fantastic life has run out.
Like you have anything better to do with your time, you say.
Of course I do. I like staring into space. And checking my skin for possible melanoma. Or looking for things to throw in the trash. And there’s that folder of movies Helliza has given me from back in April 2014. And the toys, they have been at their most disorganized in the eskaparate, having endured multiple photo shoots and such. I’m now giving them a break from photo ops.
And now that I have to write about it, it has hit me that I haven’t written in a long time. Nobody reads blogs anymore, but as I’ve said many times in my old entries I primarily write for my own entertainment. I kinda like the way I write. I enjoy reading it. I’ve been reading my old entries recently and was surprised at the things I’ve experienced, the people I’ve met, the people I’ve lost.
This is probably just withdrawal.