I watched the battery drop from 5% to 3%, then 1%. And I did nothing. I let it die. No frantic search for a charger, no last-minute attempt to preserve its life. Just… silence.
At first, it felt like anxiety gripping my chest. What if someone needed me? What if something important happened? What if, God forbid, I had to just sit with my own thoughts?
But then, something strange happened. I liked it.
No buzzing. No notifications. No digital tether. My phone was dead, and for once, I wasn’t. My brain wasn’t being yanked in a hundred directions by emails, messages, and pointless doomscrolling. I felt untouchable. Like a ghost in a world where everyone else was still plugged into the machine.
Why does this feel good? Is it because I finally escaped the constant pull of urgency? Or is it because, deep down, I know that my phone controls me more than I control it?
The real question: Why do I always bring it back to life? If I enjoy the silence, why do I keep resurrecting my digital overlord? Maybe I’m not ready to admit that I’m just another servant to the glowing screen.
Or maybe
just maybe
I should let it die more often.