ORDINARY

Not everything ordinary is simple — some things carry the weight of every secret you were too afraid to say out loud

Don’t we all live in a world where it’s very hard to find someone who truly gets us? I have not yet. It doesn’t mean I don’t have people loving me or loved ones. It’s just — even if they do love me, they don’t get me. They don’t get the imperfect version of me. The version that always overthinks, over-explains, is sensitive, scared of rejection. I had my first personal mobile phone at 11 years old. A bit early, isn’t it? At first I thought it was interesting — watching videos, listening to music. I was a curious kid. Apparently that curiosity never died. Over time I came to realize it held more — more knowledge, more comfort, more proof that there was a world beyond my own. I found my solace in it. I found there were many people like me and that I wasn’t alone. It’s probably not healthy to be this attached to a device that has no emotion. But humans have emotions, don’t they? We can’t help but get attached to something that gets us, doesn’t judge us. Where we can be our true self. Even when I’m somewhere away from my phone, it’s always in my peripheral vision. The device itself looks mundane on the surface — but it’s surprising to see how much it can offer. There was a time when I had a big argument with my father and slammed the door of my room in his face. I felt guilty — but I am my father’s daughter, and we are both too prideful. That night I cried talking to my phone. I cried myself to sleep. As I grew up I felt more like crying, but I detested the thought of it — because to me it meant I was weak. A loser. There were many moments in my teenage years where only my phone knows how much I cried, how guilty I felt, how I clammed my hand on my mouth to silence myself, how I kept hiccuping and the tears wouldn’t stop. Humans do make wonders. It’s remarkable how a single pocket-sized device can offer comfort at your most vulnerable moments. But there’s a threshold you shouldn’t cross. The fact that it’s a device means we still need to step out into the real world — in person, with all its difficulty. The world is not as tender as that screen, and it’s better if we learn that sooner rather than later. But I hope that coming home from fighting the world, we can slip into reverie and unravel our true selves — the way we would with a friend who never judges, never leaves, and never asks us to be anything other than what we are. — Sky

• Personal Essay
• Mental health
• Technology
• Self Discovery
• Relationship