What technology would you be better off without, why?

Thereβs a small moment every morning that decides the mood of my entire day.
Itβs the moment right after I open my eyes, while the world is still soft and quiet, and sunlight hasnβt yet convinced me to move. Ideally, this moment should belong to peace.
But it doesnβt.
Because the very first thing that chirps at meβ¦
is my smartphone.
Itβs ridiculous when I think about itβthis tiny rectangular slab steals more attention from me than any living person. Before I even greet the morning, Iβm already pulled into a whirlpool of notifications, messages, reminders, algorithm-curated chaos, and the kind of news that makes you wish you could crawl right back under the blanket.
One morning, after scrolling for far longer than Iβd admit publicly, I realized something both funny and sad:
I hadnβt even stood up, and the day had already drained me.
So if thereβs any technology Iβd be better off withoutβeven temporarilyβitβs the smartphone. Not in a dramatic βthrow it into the oceanβ way, but in the βmaybe we need a little distanceβ way.
I remember a day when my phoneβs battery died unexpectedly while I was out. At first, I panickedβhow will I navigate? What if someone needs me? How will I check the time? But then something odd happened.
The world looked clearer.
People seemed more real.
My mind felt⦠quieter.
I sat at a chai stall, watching strangers argue about cricket, kids kick around a dusty football, and an old man adjust his radio antenna to catch a song from the 90s. And for the first time in a long time, I wasnβt multitasking. I wasnβt living half in the real world and half in the digital one.
I was just there.
It reminded me that technology is incredible, but sometimes the way we use it isnβt. My smartphone keeps me connected, productive, entertainedβbut it also interrupts, overstimulates, and sometimes steals moments I never get back.
Would I be better off without it forever? Probably not.
Would I be better off without it for a few hours a day?
Absolutely.
Because when I put it down, the world doesnβt shrink.
It expands.
And in that expanded space, I find things I often forget to look forβstillness, presence, and a version of myself who notices life happening instead of scrolling past it.
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