By Grey Tang (‘26)
Since the age of twelve, I’ve been lulled to sleep by the YouTube algorithm. Now, nearly seventeen, I’m finally ditching that habit. Here’s how I’m doing it.
I’ve spent the last five years glued to my screen. The first thing I do each morning is check Insta, in case I’ve missed some important late-night message (I usually haven’t). Then I wash my face and brush my teeth, but not before opening TikTok to listen to Redditors complain on r/AITA with Subway Surfers gameplay in the background. I only eat meals when some guy on my phone is explaining an insane childhood story, or talking about a game I’ll never even play. When it’s time to go to bed, I lay motionless under my covers watching people scale mountains, traverse the world, and live their ambitions on Youtube.
At some point, I stopped dreaming. When I was little, I’d make up elaborate stories before I slept, and they’d transition into dreams when I fell asleep. When I replaced my imagination with YouTube, I lost my dreams too. I only realized a few months ago. When did I stop dreaming? What else have I lost without knowing it?
I understood then that something had to change.
The first step was distance. When I don’t need them, I keep all my electronics somewhere out of sight. Currently, they sit in my room on the ground, under my empty school bag, where they’re accessible but not easily.
Next, I set some ground rules. I told myself that, until I got to school, I couldn’t look at my phone in the mornings. When I fail, I do pushups as punishment. Staying offline during classes and lunch wasn’t too difficult- I went online for entertainment, and my peers could satiate that desire. But at home, I had to prohibit myself from keeping anything that could access the Internet on hand. Thus, if I had the urge to scroll, I would have to go all the way upstairs to my room to grab my laptop or phone. This also curbed my habit of binging videos during meals. Without the convenience of having them on hand, it was a natural progression.
To diminish the boredom that online content had quelled, I picked up a new habit: walking around town. I pick locations worth visiting, like cafes or cool stores I see while driving, and use the time I previously spent doomscrolling to go. This way, I ended up inviting people to hang more often. But even without company, the simple pleasure of walking is enough. Feeling the cold air, smelling the rain, and hearing the bustle of city life painted Vancouver in a new light. And when I get to my location, I’m rewarded with whatever pastry I’ve ached to try, or the fruit tea at a local place I love. Instead of just one sense, I engage all five.
I didn’t even know what I was missing. All the time I’d spent online had dulled my sense of reality. I could only see what was in front of me. But now that I’ve distanced myself, I see how much is really out there.
To be clear: I’m not saying that phones are bad. Not at all. That’s not my point. I know full well the benefits of being online. As someone who, at one point, spent hours on Discord and Roblox each day–yes, I’m ashamed too–and who practically fell down every niche online rabbit hole possible, I know firsthand how much joy it brought. The internet’s awesome. It kept me company. It practically raised me.
The internet isn’t a curse. I’m not saying that. I’m just saying it was time for me to disconnect.
And maybe it’s time for you too.
This is really well written and relatable