As you already have probably figured out, I have a problem with the Internet. I was very young when I first used it—too young by many accounts—but the discordant yet comforting dial-tone beckoned me to it. It was new, an expensive and all-consuming habit. Within weeks I was blowing most of what little money I had for just a little taste of it. Then came junior high, we had such a tempestuous relationship back then. aol. mIRC—that wonderful and evil place where teenagers were gods, swinging vicious leetspeak swords. Rumors flew. Social-lives were shattered. “Whores” and “bitches” were made. Once I hit rock-bottom (after another user nearly destroyed my self-esteem), I was able to put myself back together and stay off of it for most of my remaining teenage years.
I felt like I was almost free of my addiction, until I relapsed suddenly when MySpace’s call became too powerful to resist (had I learned nothing from the mIRC days??). Still, I was only using it recreationally until things quickly spiraled out of control.
College.
Completely and hopelessly addicted, I was on it all the time, day and night. My need was insatiable. I convinced myself that it wasn’t my fault, that everyone used it as much as I did, but deep down I knew that was a lie. Other people were out living their lives, doing ACTUAL drugs, and there I was, sequestered to my dorm room, unable to kick that habit that was isolating me from everyone I knew IRL. I’ve since graduated from college and pieced together a relatively normal life despite my addiction—though I have probably not gone a day without the Internet since. Some days are better than others, but as you can tell from this new site, I’m far from ready to face my addiction. Until I’m ready to look my pajama-pants-wearing, un-showered and under-nourished self in the mirror and admit that using the Internet is bad for me—I’ll be its prisoner. Time to refresh twitter for the 1000th time today.
Who am I kidding? I fucking love the Internet.