The Screen
Once a day, I must rip my eyes, drooping and bloodshot, away from the magnetic computer screen. Constantly walking through the endless digital world, awe-inspired by the neon flashing advertisements lit up across my screen, I let out a robotic laugh as I become part of my computer. This false sense of blithe giddiness leads me down the dark road of isolation every time I open my laptop. Oxygen fills my lungs and I feel the steady throb of a headache peeking around the corner. Oxygen leaves my lungs and my pixelated eyes dart back and forth, scanning and processing page after page. Oxygen in and oxygen out. Black and white erupts into crimson and magenta, lime and electric blue. The colors envelop me further and further until it all stops. The mélange of color turns into a void of black and I see my reflection staring back at me, with accentuated undereye bags and cracked lips. I close my laptop and turn my gaze to the outside world.
