I have come to believe that technology distances us away from ourselves; we use technology to get away from reality because we don’t know how to be alone. We browse through the Internet when we’re sitting at home, waiting to go to class, simply going about our days, when we are completely isolated from human interaction. “I’ll just check my Facebook,” “I’ll just see what’s new on Twitter,” “What’s trending on Instagram, Tumblr, Foursquare?” The ironic thing is, when checking these social networking sites, we’re not experiencing human interaction, we’re experiencing false perceptions of humans through a machine. It’s not genuine, and it’s an excuse for us to avoid solitude because when we’re alone we feel real, profound emotions, and I think the idea of that scares us.

I have a nine-year-old sister who has an extension of an arm Š—ê an iPad. Have you ever tried talking to a nine year old who has her eyes glued to a computer screen? It’s impossible. You’ll ask a question or make a comment and she’s completely unresponsive. This iPad is almost always attached to her hand, and she is constantly choosing to stay inside to “play” on the Internet rather than going outside to play with friends.

But it’s not her fault; my parents are the ones who bought it for her. She doesn’t know any better. They claim it’s for intellectual use, but are they just too lazy to have to talk to their own kid? Or maybe they’re afraid of what her tiny mind could create and ask with all those bubbly child-like ideas and feelings that she has.

My little sister is growing up into a half-human, half-robot: a cyborg.

She is so accustomed to the Internet that she actually prefers it to human interaction. Real communication can be difficult to handle because some of the time it is negative, uncomfortable or vulnerable, so we choose to shelter ourselves from it through technology.

We pick up our phones when we don’t know what to do with ourselves. But why can’t we just be? Right here, right now, without any attachments. I walked into an elevator the other day occupied by one man. The entire elevator ride consisted of him staring down at his phone after acknowledging me for a brief moment with a phony half-smile when I entered. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to have an in-depth conversation with this man whose name I didn’t even know, but the fact that he couldn’t even stand there alone, without his phone in hand, scares me. We’re becoming completely distracted from what is going on around us because of a world online. And here’s the kicker: we’re doing it because it’s easy.

We have become so used to having things given to us that anything that requires a little effort or awkwardness is something we try to avoid. It is undoubtedly difficult to confront a co-worker about an issue, discuss relationship problems with your partner, or work up the courage to ask someone on a date, but it’s better for us.

Why are people my age are so fascinated with documenting every single thing they do on the Internet? No one cares that you went to Applebee’s last Friday or that Miranda is “hittin’ the club this weekend.” But we’ve become so addicted to staring at this vast network of emptiness that we have become our usernames. Countless times I have encountered someone saying that they would “post that on Facebook.” After something worthwhile or entertaining happens, we almost reflexively think about what it would sound or look like online. The funny thing is, we don’t want Internet users to see everything: just that one thing, and then another, and then another, of our own choosing. We create this persona of who we would like to be and how we would like to be perceived, and leave out everything that ends up embodying us the most. We are so addicted to the idea of creating ourselves online that we forget who we truly are.

Being alone freaks us all out a little bit because when no one is around there’s this eerie feeling that can creep up on us. That “Yeah, I’m really alone. This is it; it’s really just me, all by myself in the world. I came into it alone and I’m leaving it alone,” feeling. People don’t want to feel that because it’s incredibly sad. But what we need to understand is that being sad is valuable to us. We learn so much about ourselves in times of suffering. It forces us to look beyond the surface and really question ourselves. Without sadness and hardship, how could we truly know ourselves? A part of yin and yang is the full spectrum of emotion: without feeling sad, we’d feel no happiness. And I’m not talking about happiness like how that photo on Tumblr of a bird on a tree makes you feel, or how a witty Facebook status makes you grin; I’m talking about raw, profound happiness. That feeling you get when you lie on your bedroom floor and close your eyes, maybe listening to your favorite tune, and you try to clear your mind, and feel happy – for absolutely no reason. Or when you’re walking down a city street and you’re looking around at everyone hustling to his or her destination, as if they’re on a mission. Everyone looks like they have so much purpose, and it makes you happy. In these lone moments, we can find pure clarity. Nothing is truer than our thoughts in solitude. 

I’m one of you; we’re ignoring one another because we’re too busy scrolling through our newsfeeds. Consequently, we’re numbing ourselves. We’re not allowing ourselves to feel any emotion completely because we’re never living in the moment. We’re stuck in limbo, we’re in a collective funk, and I’m worried about us.

I had this teacher in high school named Ms. Flint, an eccentric old woman who would go off on tangents about every 4 minutes. She forgot students’ names and rarely taught from a textbook, but she always knew what she was talking about. Whenever she caught someone texting, she grabbed this little painting she made and walked up to the student’s desk holding it in front of her, and she’d smile. Green bubble letters spelled out, “Be here.”

We shouldn’t have to feel distracted or controlled by the buzzing of our phones anymore. If we try, we can get to know one another, ourselves and even silence. Nothing is more real than the present moment.

So just be here.