By Lauren Englet
Elevators are historically awkward places. I often enact a staring contest with my shoes, the lit-up buttons, and the four corners. A conversation becomes challenging when elbow-to-elbow with strangers in a slow-moving metal box. On a historically quiet trip up to my apartment, I couldn’t help but become hyperaware of the boy in the corner, watching TikTok on his phone at maximum volume. He was slack-jawed, wholly tuned into audios I had heard countless times, and completely tuned out from the other people, the world around him. This fellow twenty-something was not a lone wolf, however. I’d run out of fingers if I attempted to count the number of times someone’s pace strolling through campus fell back to a crawl as they scrolled through video after video or how often I’ve seen someone buried in their phone while in line. While my walks to class usually rival the pace of a professional power walker, I am guilty of being sucked into scrolling when I’m lounging in my apartment or evading an assignment. Which was fine until it wasn’t.
The For You Page is precisely as it sounds, videos curated to fit niche interests and preferences. But the TikTok app has changed significantly over the years, from a platform filled with creativity and random dances to a comparison game. It stopped feeling fun, and yet, I couldn’t look away. There were many times when I glanced at the clock on my phone, only to realize that an hour had passed by, unbeknownst to me. What could I have done in that timespan instead? Maybe read the novels I swore I would get around to, untouched and cluttering up my nightstand. Or the television show I wanted to watch completely uninterrupted. I had the time but could not switch gears once I was enveloped by the flashy confines of TikTok. I got to a point where I just couldn’t take it anymore.
Like everything, there are pros, and there are cons to TikTok. I have Eras Tour outfit inspiration. I’ve converted to using the Lash ‘N Roll Mascara daily and have found a ‘dupe’ of my favorite Lululemon shorts. But the app really is a double-edged sword for me. Over the past few months, I have tried to get better at paying attention to what makes me feel my best (but also what doesn’t) and acting accordingly. Many a time, I had landed on the side of TikTok that paid homage to the summer of 2019 or quotes set to “Scott Street” that made my stomach tie up in knots. I could return to a time that felt much simpler than in 2023. But reminiscing can become ruminating if you’re not careful, and I became tired of missing my 17-year-old self at 21. At the height of COVID, TikTok served as the prime zone-out tool, a place to ignore the chaos ensuing in our world at that time. But now, for myself, the negatives of TikTok outweigh the positives. When given a free second, I felt as though my focus had taken a hit, that hobbies I once enjoyed had landed on the back burner. But now, I want to zone back in, to stay present in the moment, to the parts of myself that I have neglected, and make up the much-needed rest I have been forgoing because of my scrolling habits. At least for now, it’s time to take a break. Have you ever thought about doing the same?
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