Every time you pick up your phone, you’re starting an elaborate game of dopamine dominoes. Each scroll, tap, and like is another carefully placed tile in a chain, designed to keep you hooked. But once that first domino tips, the cascade is unstoppable.
The dopamine rush pulls you in and when the chain finally runs out, what’s left isn’t satisfaction – it’s a system that’s been pushed to its limit, craving the next hit but too burned out to feel fulfilled. It’s clever, it’s compulsive, and it’s exactly why your screen-time report is so tragic.
I spend less time online than most of my friends, and it shows. I miss inside jokes, pop culture references, and group chat chaos. And because I didn’t grow up glued to a device, I also miss the shared nostalgia of obscure YouTube videos or viral trends from back in the day. But honestly? I don’t regret it.
Growing up, I spent more time climbing trees and thinking up schemes than watching TV. As a result, my happy place is off the grid. But I don’t get to live in the wilderness as often as I’d like, so I make do with missing out. Because let’s face it, nobody’s happy place is Instagram.
Between lecture slides, group chats, and doomscrolling between classes, our screens have become our third limbs
For students, screens are more than tools – they’re lifelines. Between lecture slides, group chats, and doomscrolling between classes, our screens have become our third limbs, complete with phantom limb pains when we don’t have them. But while we’re busy swiping and typing, what’s slipping through the cracks?
The internet has redefined connection – you can swap memes at midnight or debate life’s big questions in 280 characters. But digital connection often feels like conversational fast food – quick, easy, and not all that nourishing. An illusion of connection, keeping us at a safe, sterile distance, while our relationships are stuck in ‘online small talk’, no different than chatting about the weather.
But let’s be clear: the issue isn’t just that we’re spending too much time on screens. That argument went stale somewhere between the rise of Netflix and the fall of Vine. The real question is: do we even want to change? Logging off feels like giving up oxygen – our work, our classes, our lives demand digital connection. And the alternative? Sitting in silence while your friends send memes without you? It’s bleak.
It’s not about quitting the game but changing the rules. So, let’s play a game of dopamine dominoes, but on our terms. Place each tile deliberately, knowing when to let the chain run and when to stop it short. Train your brain. After all, the real flex isn’t avoiding the cascade – it’s learning how to set it up so it doesn’t knock YOU down.
CARLA ERASMUS