Alone in the dark

IN AN UNCEREMONIOUS FIZZLE OF BLACK, WHITE, AND YELLOW FIREWORKS, MY SCREEN FLICKERED OFF. I HAD BEEN MIDWAY THROUGH WRITING A MESSAGE WHEN MY SMARTPHONE DECIDED TO DIE AFTER THREE YEARS OF FAITHFUL SERVICE TO MY WHIMS. THE CONSTANT TAPPING, SCROLLING, WATCHING, AWKWARDCONVERSATION-AVOIDING; THIS DEVICE HAD SEEN EVERY SIDE OF ME. MY ANGRY NOTES, MY CRYING POETRY, MY EMAILS THAT WERE FIRMLY POLITE, MY MEMES, MY SELFIES, LINGERIE SHOOTS AND MUSHROOM PHOTOGRAPHY. IT HELD ONTO EVERYTHING IN MY PRIVATE, SAFE DOMAIN. EVERYTHING I AM AS A PERSON WAS STORED INSIDE THAT GLISTENING RECTANGLE.

And in that moment, as my own frazzled, mortified reflection stared back at me on a blackened screen, I felt the disconnect.

I don’t want to sound like a wasted millennial youth here but being separated from the lifeline of a smartphone is hard. It isn’t just boredom-scrolling that keeps me going. The internet is my world. It always has been. All my forums and message boards, my friends, my social spaces - what was I missing? Without my online identity, who am I?

More and more people my age seem to be embracing this disconnected life. Even if it means they are left out of party invites, Zoom meetups, and have their birthdays forgotten. But they adjust to their self-imposed bygone era of texting someone if they need them and writing details down in a notebook. Funny. I can’t imagine. For those of us who can’t, who we are online is so significant that the concept of being without it is truly terrifying. Our personas and characters online are so significant - this is especially true for some of us folks in the queer community. We are so much safer online, to chat and to meet new people and to just fit in for once. Online communities are so significant to minority groups. It cannot be understated.

I held my dying device in my hand and clicked the screen on and off again, hoping for something, anything. That night was the first time I’d been fully offline in a decade, I’d guess.

I’m not sure if I’ve ever felt so alone.