"My Intensive Technology Detox Diary" -- A NoSleep Read
You. You. You. Have, you ever wondered, why we are all so obsessed. With technology. Look. Around you right, now. Everyone. Is on a laptop a, mobile. A tablet. They. Are immersed in their, own little world. Oblivious. To all that transpires, around, them. It's. Like an addiction a disease. And. I, need. To cure myself. I am. A technology, addict. I. Desire. It I obsess. Over it, I. Have. Gone days, without sleeping, or eating when I'm gaming. I lose. Whole weekends, watching YouTube videos. My, every, thought and, action are visible, to the whole world on a dozen social, media applications, that I update. Endlessly. I. Lost. My girlfriend to my addiction a few months ago and I am determined to, win her back. She. Told me that if I can go eight weeks, without technology. She. Will think about, getting back together with me. I've. Made the decision to try an intensive, cold. Turkey, style, technology. Detox. I. Thought. It would be cool to keep, a diary of it and. Share it here with, my no sleep buddies. Come. On my no sleep brothers and sisters help, out one of your biggest fans and support, me on my technology, detox. Okay. Let. Me start with the, rules. One. I. Can. Work on my laptop for, up to eight hours a day no, more I don't. Want to be unemployed as well as single, do I. -. I. Can. Use my mobile for, phone calls and important, texts, only. At seven. O'clock p.m., it gets locked away until. Seven o'clock the, next morning. Three. I. Am. Replacing technology. With wholesome. Healthy, activities, I'm. Going. To exercise for, at least an hour a day, read. Instead of watching YouTube fail vids and I'm, even going to try meditation, to replace the hours I waste on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Wish. Me luck. This. Is, hard. I. Have. Been so, twitchy. I. Have. Been walking to work and back which has been quite nice, apart, from Wednesday, when it rained. I'm. So. Desperate. To go online I keep reaching for my phone but I've pretty much stayed on the wagon just. One. Minor blip on. Thursday. When I jumped a no sleep on my mobile and read a couple of stories, they. Were amazing, by the way and, it. Was 8:45. Before, I locked away my mobile. I've. Started. Reading a paperback called dune by Frank Herbert. Guys. If you haven't read this book it's amazing. You have to check it out. I'm. Finding. Meditating, tough, my. Mind wanders, so, easily, but, I'm, determined to keep going. I rang. My ex to tell her she. Seemed, pleased I was giving it a go so that's, given me a lot of hope. I'm. Calling week one a success I. Went. For a run this week, twice. Not. Too far just three. Miles but I'm suitably, smug about it I. Listened. To Spotify, on my first run then realized that was tech. I'm. Getting, much better at meditating, I. Can. Go for about seven minutes at a time now that. Doesn't, sound like much but try, it it, feels, like an awfully, long time when all you were doing is sitting in breathing, I. Look. Like a different person already. My. Complexion is not as sallow and pale. I'm. Out. In the Sun three to four hours a week now with walking and running. I've. Started to lose a bit of weight but, there's. This weird red dot on the tip of my right thumb. Sleep. Was, always, a problem for me I used. To wake several, times a night and jump straight on my phone often spending hours, on social media. My. Sleep is already, getting better, but. I've, started to dream, I. Never. Used, to I don't, think I was ever asleep, unbroken long enough to. It's. A vivid recurring. Scene I'm. Sitting. In a room with my friends, and we were all talking. Slowly. The conversation, drifts away from me. My. Friends stopped hearing, than seeing me I. Shout. And scream, and, shake, them but it's like I've stopped existing to them. Freudian. Huh. No. Blips this week but serious. Cravings, and my resolve has been tested many, times. On a, couple of mornings when I woke up my mobile was next to my bed instead of downstairs. I must. Have forgotten to lock it away a night. You. I. Think. The honeymoon is over I. Really. Want to go online I'm, obsessing. About it. Everything. Was going so well for the first two weeks. Week. Three has not, been as doesn't. It. Started. With the headache on Monday dull, at first but ever-present. The. Stomach cramps and nausea are worse than the headaches. They. Seemed to subside when I'm at work on my laptop but the rush at the time I feel more, Hutten. I. Still. Manage to get out for a run but just, the one I. Was. Hoping to build on last week not go backwards. The. Healthy glow I was starting to see in the mirror last week is less, evident, now I. Have. The mother of all as its forming, just above my left eyebrow.
What. Am i a teenager. Maybe. I'm getting, ill. On. Thursday. Morning I woke up on my sofa instead of my bed the, TV was on in the background, I. Must. Have crashed out after work I. Turned. The TV off as soon as I woke up but ended, up flicking it back on. My. Headache is crippling. Now and the TV took my mind off it for a while I. Called. In sick to work on Friday. I've. Caught. Myself on a couple of occasions just. Staring. At my phone. I have. To leave it out of reach at work otherwise I keep, finding it in my hand. It's. Getting harder, and harder not, to just jump online and check Facebook. The. Weird red dots are on the tips of most, of my fingers now. I started. To feel a bit better after Friday of last week. Maybe. The illness, has passed I'm. Back. On with the meditation but, when I'm just sitting with my own thoughts it just draws my attention to, my headache and turns. It from a dull background, pain to a sharp blinding. Agony. My. Sit is growing, it's, going to be a monster. I. Tried. Squeezing, it but it's bloody painful I. Think. I'll leave it until it forms a proper head before popping it as. The. Week has gone on the nausea and cramps have come back. When. I started this process I called it a detox, but it really is starting to feel like I'm coming off heroin or something. I'm. Sweating, then, shivering. And I have cravings, I'm. Desperate. To look at my phone and check in on social media. My. Dream is really getting to me it's. Like my subconscious. Is talking to me. Not. Interacting. With people and social media has made me realise how I don't have any real world friends I. Woke. Up on Saturday, morning and my. Bed was, covered, in blood. When. I tried to get out of bed a burning pain flared up on the soles of my feet. They're. Shredded, and filled. With tiny, shards of glass. I. Think. I've pieced together what must have happened I, obviously. Got up in the middle of the night to get myself a glass of water from the kitchen and drop the glass smashing, it on the wooden floor and lacerating. My feet. It's. Odd. Though. There. Was no spilt water just, broken, glass and looking. At the trail of bloody footprints, it almost looks like I walked repeatedly, back and forth through the shards I. Don't. Think I could have damaged, my feet more if I deliberately, tried to. That's. Unfortunately. Put the walking and running on hold. One, other weird thing I. Keep. Finding tiny, shriveled, black, hairs all over the house. They. Aren't mine. It's. Getting, tough no sleep, please. Keep sending your positive, thoughts. The. Cravings, are, unbearable. I haven't. Been able to go into work all week. I mostly. Lie on the sofa shaking. My. Every, thought is, consumed. By technology. My. Skull is itching on the inside and it feels like my brain is burning. I so. Desperately, wanted to go online I know it would make the pain and the aching desire go away. When, I read my, eyes stream. In the words are blurred.
Meditation. Is agony. It seems to focus the pain around my eyes they feel like they're going to burst. My. Zit is the size of a grape in. A. Desperate attempt, to relieve the brutal, pain in my forehead I squeeze and squeeze screaming. And pain until it bursts, a. Heart. A black ball the size of a pea fires out bouncing. Off my bathroom mirror and rolling down the sink before I can catch it. The. Black hairs are all over. The house now the. Tiny, red sores are all around the edges of my eyes on my, fingertips, and even my tongue now. They, look like infected, hair follicles, and in. My dreams the black hairs sprout, from them like questing, antennae, while. My conscious, mind takes, refuge from the constant, blinding. Pain I'm in. Three. Nights in a row I wake. Up at my kitchen table. My. Laptop, is on and my phone is in my hand I. Don't. Remember any of it but I've made, hundreds. Of posts in the night all on my social media accounts. They. Are bizarre. Insane. Things. Vile. Insults to some of my closest, online friends and colleagues and help, landish, lies as. A. Result, my. Accounts have gone into meltdown, with the amount of furious, and worried replies I received I. Revel. And how good it feels. At. Least my dreams about being invisible, to my friends aren't too likely to come true now. My. Headaches lessen a little. I. Get. A letter from work telling, me my contract, has been terminated. It. Hardly, seems to matter, I've. Come. So far on. This detox that I can't stop now despite, everything that is happening to me. If. Only I could remember why I started doing this in the first place. I'm, lying, curled up in a ball, shaking. I. Have. No idea, how long I've been like this the. Universe, has contracted, to be nothing more than two opposing forces. My. Burning insatiable. Desire, to go online and my resolute, will to see this thing through to the end I. Can. No longer trust, my body or my senses, so I take matters into my own hands I. Take. A hammer to my laptop and phone and smash, them to pieces. It's. The only way to guarantee I won't, succumb, to the cravings. I'm. Vomiting. Now blood. And bio and a cloudy gray fluid, filled with tiny black hairs. I'm. So. Weak I could scarcely move even if my feet weren't covered, and agonizing, infected. Cuts I. Think. My addiction, is going to kill me I. Would. Welcome death. The. Spot over, my left eye is swollen and engorged. It bursts. Spilling. Forth a foul-smelling, yellow. Past and dozens, of tiny black balls, in.
My. Fever dream they unfurl, tiny. Black filament, hairs dragging, them out of a premortal, soup of my blood and pus. They. Skitter away, heading. For the nearest darkness. I. Spend. The rest of the week weeping. I'm. Staring. In the mirror, scalpel. In hand. The. Pain behind my left eye is so. Crippling. That the cold kiss of the razor-sharp steel, would be a welcome relief. As. I. Raise the blade I see the skin around my forehead cheek. And eye socket pulse and shift. My. Tear duct, suddenly sprouts, a thousand, black filament, tears. They. Stretch, and probe, reaching, out to grip my face the, base and taps anything, they can find. I'm paralyzed. With fear as something begins to pull itself through my eye socket, a. Flash. Of pain then. A wet red, explosion. As my eyeball, pops I. Scream. Its. Path, suddenly, freeze as the horror drags, itself out of my skull a ball. Like body and a monstrous, tail adorned, with a cruel needle, with sharp hooks trailing, a ruin of gore and gray brain matter behind, it I. Lose. Consciousness and. Perhaps. My. Mind. My. Ex-girlfriend comes. To see me in the secure psychiatric, ward. Speech. Is difficult, for me and my. Brain works slower now making it hard to find the words I. Told. Her that we, can get back together now, I, beat. My addiction. She. Cries and strokes. My hair when I tell her she looks just as pretty through one eye, I. Think. Her tears are pity. Not. Love. No. One seems to believe me about what happened, about. The. Creature living, in my brain the real source, of my addiction. How. It made me crave the constant, stream of data fed, on it how. It bred in my brain and multiplied, sending, out its young to enslave more, Minds I. Shudder. When I think about my old commute to work, surrounded, by strangers, with their heads down each a slave to the tiny electrical, device in their hand and the monster, it is feeding I. No. Longer care. I'm. Free. Of my addiction, and my mind is at peace. Thank. You for your help no sleep I. Couldn't. Have done it without you. I'm. Glad, you read my diary but. Please. Take. Care. Stop. Now. If you feel the urge the. Craving, the, obsessive. Desire for. Just. More. Story. You.