7:10 am: I’ve been awake for twenty minutes, and my phone lights up. My various Snapchats greet me with a good morning.

It’s comforting knowing that someone is thinking of you. It is only the onset of the morning, and I’m already not alone. Thank you. I feel loved.

8:30 am: The front of the classroom feels empty. There is a desolate space where my teacher typically stands, but in place of a human, an idle note is written on the board. Check Google Classroom for your assignment.

I think I miss the comfort of a voice guiding my educational endeavors, but for the time being, the luminous screen will suffice. The internet is helpful, anyway. I should feel thankful for this gift.

11:30 am: It is my lunch break, and various adolescent faces around me are glued to their screens. My phone lights up, and I’ve received exactly nine notifications since I last left my phone at 8:33 am.

Only one of these nine notifications is a message from a friend. I open the Snapchat, and a picture of their forehead is lit up on my screen. The message acknowledges my existence but feels hollow. I am bruised by its inflicted emptiness.

I walk to my next class shortly after lunch, but the hallways seem quieter, despite all of the voices bouncing off of the walls.

12:25 pm: “How do you solve number three on the math homework?”
“I’m not sure. Try looking it up.”

1:11 pm: “Which topic should I choose to write about for my essay?”
“Both ideas sound interesting. Maybe you should try searching which one would be easier to write about.”

2:34 pm: “What are we doing with our lives?”
“Who knows, but you can probably find the answer on the internet.”

Thank you for your help, but can I talk to a person, please?

11:59 pm: It has been a long day, and it’s finally time to take in the comfort of my bed. Before I shut my eyes, my hands subconsciously reach for my phone. I have no messages.

I try to sleep, but the silence is too loud. The emptiness subtly gnaws away at my thoughts, and soon, the darkness is interrupted by a glowing screen and a mechanical bing. My eyes open up, hoping to have contact with another mind.

from Team Snapchat

It is not a person. I am still alone.

At least I have the reliability of my luminous screen; I know it will always be there, even when no one else is. I do admit, though, I sometimes miss looking into the eyes of a person.

7:10 am: I’ve been awake for twenty minutes, and my phone lights up. My various Snapchats greet me with a good morning.