TikTok and the Fall of Mackarus

 Hey Mom!

So I have both downloaded and deleted TikTok this week and I think the worst part is that I knew it would come to this. I have been pretty up front with my addictive personality, I have been honest and forthcoming about my Candy Crush issues and the fact that I have to use a very strict timer system to accomplish anything at all on my days off.

 So it was with great hubris that I downloaded TikTok, that I, the great Mackarus, could spread my wings and fly so close to a world with endless content. Except I was not flying at all, I was under a mountain of blankets, in the dark, in the fetal position wearing a Star Wars onesie. Yeah verily, I was not flying at all. I was falling.

For hours and hours I lay there, in darkness, scrolling. Despite the many things I wanted to do. The glorious winter snacks I had hoped to bake, the laundry I needed to fold, the podcast I recorded a week ago that I still haven't edited. I did none of them, I only lived for TikTok, I only breathed so I could scroll and only scrolled so I could breathe.

It wasn't until my phone died in my hands that I realized what had happened. As I cradled the phone corpse in my arms, its LifeProof case still warm to the touch, I found myself coming face-to-face with my own darkness. 

POV: My phone as it died.

My eyes remain slightly out of focus but my heart and mind are clear: I cannot trust myself. I am the trash-bird-boy who was given very simple instructions but got hypoxic while flying and then fell to my death except in this case it was the death of my pride and dignity. AND NOW, I don't even have Christmas snacks.

That is all.