Quarantine thoughts: Breaking up with the Internet

Breakups are hard, but relationships can be exhausting. Living online is exhausting. And living online during a pandemic is even worse. When you’re confined to four walls and an occasional daily walk (as a treat) you find yourself staring at a screen a lot more than usual.

There becomes no way to escape, and you continue to scroll mindlessly through an abyss of oat milk lattes and infographics. It was really maddening at the beginning of lockdown hearing everyone around you say, “use this time to rebuild yourself, to grow!” As wistful as that sounds, it creates a lot of pressure. A pressure that makes you feel like you have to be doing all these things during a really distressing time in order to keep up with social order.

Some of us just needed to use this time of isolation to stop, to rest, to not feel burdened over becoming this perfect version of ourselves. Instead, making progress on our own accord anyway, because that is how healing works. And so that is exactly what I did. All of the best stories begin with a breakup after all.

Our relationship began as all do, with a simple hello. If I am being honest, the internet and I had a lot of good memories together and went on a handful of dates.

The first date gave me validation.

The second date made me feel connected.

And the third date made me feel alone.

Loneliness is this powerful, yet sad thing. You can let it transform you, or let it create a gaping hole that never quite gets filled. I did not want to feel empty from that hole that will never see fullness, so I broke up with the Internet. When I did so in quarantine, I began to notice things.

I began to notice I felt warmer knowing how the sun finds a way to come through my window at just the right angle. I began to like the shapes the trees made in the sky. I began to smile at the fact that a sunset is just the sky showing off the way its colors flirt with one another. I began to feel prettier now that I no longer cared.

I began to question things. Questions like why did I ever care what people on the internet thought? Why do I have 7000 photos saved on my phone? Do people really care to see my 30th strawberry crepe this week? Am I posting because I am proud of it, or so people can react to it? Who am I posting for if not for myself?

Living online means being perceived at all times, forever. Sometimes I think it’d be easier to be a tree, but even twigs get perceived. After breaking up with the internet, I decided we could still be friends. This friendship is easier on both of us, we no longer need each other. We simply see each other around here and there, tossing a nod and flashing a knowing smile.