It’s a nearly futile task to meet a person in this day and age who isn’t completely tethered to their cell phone. And, as a teenager in this civilized and incredibly “social” modern world, I’m no anomaly.

As I sit in my room, pondering this, I intermittently flip my phone on and off, browsing through text messages, photos, music selections, Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, and finally – the one task I had intended – setting an alarm.

Suddenly, I’m overcome by a wave of despair. I feel unproductive. I yearn to go somewhere special, do something memorable, feel something real. But why? I have everything I could ask for: possessions, education, endless opportunities, and nothing to endanger my life. What more could I want? What more can I do?

It gets to the point where I can’t stand the gloom. So what do I do? I distract myself. Scrolling through the photos on my phone, I come across pictures of my trip to France. The images bring precious memories to my mind and a smile to my face. I recollect energetically diving off cliffs into the refreshing azure water of the Mediterranean with the sounds of laughter and encouragement all around me. This laughter and conversation was also present at the numerous picnics, soirées, and late-night restaurant visits, when I tasted fresh baguettes, warm crepes, and delicious paninis, and smelled the aromas of hibiscus and lavender as they released their intoxicating fragrance into the night air. I can vividly picture the gorgeous vistas in La Ciotat, Marseilles, Aix-en Provence, Avignon, and Paris. Among my adventures, I para-sailed, soaring through the air and looking down upon the glittering sea as the sun warmed my skin.

And that brings to mind the way I soared in another way – emotionally – throughout the trip. Most clearly, I remember the friends I grew close to. It’s surprising, really, that I feel so attached to them and those experiences. It was, after all, only two weeks. And yet, they are more dear to me than some people I’ve known for years. In my head I can conjure whole conversations with Justine, Clement, Leelou, and Jules, and I have a feeling that I won’t forget them anytime soon. Without wi-fi and my phone, I lived last summer to the fullest. Oh, I long to go back to the warm air and embracing community of “la sud de la France.”

I come to the end of those photos sooner than I expected. As I start to look for more, I’m alerted with a notification: “Emma tagged you in a photo – Instagram.” Impulsively, I click to see the picture. It’s from last weekend, Emma’s birthday party. We ice skated. Well, I did, at least. The other girls uploaded photos of us ice skating to Snapchat. We watched Emma open presents. Well, I did, at least. The rest recorded videos of her opening presents. We enjoyed ice cream cake. Well, I tried to, at least. The others texted their friends who weren’t there. We spent memorable time together. Well, I couldn’t, in fact. Instead, everyone spent unmemorable time on their phones. This situation should have been fun. This is how modern kids enjoy themselves, isn’t it? No, it could not possibly be the phones that took the life out of my mood. It must just be me, right? It’s called social media, after all. This is how people communicate now, right? Everyone uses phones.

My responses to these questions are beginning to alter my point of view. Why should we, the creators of this technology, feel enslaved and controlled by it? It seems, and I could be wrong, that social media is anything but social. It seems impossible that I haven’t come to this conclusion before now. I was too weak, too scared to question the true impact of my cell phone.

Holding it in my hand, I glance down. This phone has instrumented the destruction of my relationships, the steady decrease of face-to-face conversation. Now I can see clearly. The alarm I set has gone off, and it’s time to wake up. I throw my phone against the wall, shattering not only the screen but also its power over me. Well, in my mind I do. But alas, social norms are difficult to shatter, and what was this if not but a dream?