I made a horrifying discovery during my fourth video call of the day last Tuesday. As my colleagues droned on about quarterly projections and resource allocations, I found myself fixated not on their faces or the shared presentation, but on my own digital reflection lurking in that little rectangle at the bottom of the screen. Specifically, I was transfixed by the way my neck folds created a topographical map of middle age when I looked…

I felt it again this morning. That distinctive buzz against my thigh while standing in line for coffee. My hand moved reflexively, muscle memory taking over before conscious thought had a chance to catch up. I’d already fished my phone from my pocket and was halfway through unlocking it before I realized there was no notification waiting. No text. No email. Nothing. My phone hadn’t buzzed at all. My brain had invented the entire sensation.…

It’s 1:17 AM as I type these words. I have a 7:30 meeting tomorrow morning. My body aches with fatigue. My eyes burn from hours of screen exposure. Yet here I am, scrolling, tapping, and consuming digital content with the focused dedication of someone who doesn’t have responsibilities in approximately six hours. This isn’t insomnia. This is a choice – a terrible, self-destructive choice that I make with alarming regularity. The Chinese call it “bàofùxìng…

I realized I had a problem when my chiropractor recognized me by my X-rays alone. “Ah, Mr. Thornfield,” he said, glancing at the film displaying the unmistakable curve of my upper spine. “Still holding your phone at navel level?” He was right, of course. I’ve spent the better part of the last decade with my neck bent at what can only be described as a structurally inadvisable angle, thumbs flying across a screen positioned just…

Last Tuesday at 2:17 PM, I experienced a moment of clarity so profound it bordered on the spiritual. Sitting in my home office, twenty-seven minutes into a forty-five-minute virtual meeting about quarterly social media metrics, I realized that everything—absolutely everything—being discussed could have been communicated in a four-sentence email. The epiphany arrived as the seventh participant unmuted to “just add one quick thing” that was neither quick nor additive, and I found myself staring at…