On January 18th at approximately 11:07 pm, I made an irreversible decision. I deleted TikTok—permanently.
Like the majority of young people, I was shocked and mildly enraged when I opened up TikTok to find that it had been banned two hours before the determined time.Â
So many plans were cut short. I was going to rewatch all of my reposts for the 100th time that week and revel in how funny and original I am, as I do every night. I had dozens of videos from friends that are now tragically waiting to be viewed. Maybe I would even post something from my drafts for old time’s sake.
It took me a minute to come to terms with the realization that my space for dissociation, advice and, let’s face it, parasocial relationships was now gone. Thankfully, my friends, who knew how deep my TikTok obsession ran, checked in on me to find me mildly experiencing the stages of grief.
Whether we would like to admit it or not, the loss of TikTok was a huge adjustment for young people who have become accustomed to spending their free time mindlessly scrolling.
You may be thinking: “Why would you delete it? The app was back only a few hours later, but now you’re locked out. Idiot.”
Well, believe it or not, I knew this was going to happen. As an advocate for the basic freedoms of speech and assembly, I vehemently oppose a national ban on any platform that promotes free expression. However, I wanted to stop my brain rotting and make more productive use of my time.Â
My goal was to remove short-form content completely. I wanted to expand my attention span and spend more time learning and creating.
In preparation, I brought my craft box stuffed with clay, scrapbook paper, embroidery beads and the like to school. If I was gaining hours of free time, I was going to have something to show for it. Of course, the idea of crafting became less appealing once I realized I wouldn’t receive external validation for my creativity via TikTok…
Now, I didn’t quit completely cold turkey, which is where I made a fatal error. I had planned to wean off of doom-scrolling by keeping Instagram because, let’s be real, Instagram reels simply are not as good.
What I liked about TikTok was the personal feeling of the videos produced—get ready with me, advice sessions, just monologues in general—which is something that Instagram reels lack.
Before, I could justify my time on my phone by insisting that I was learning something because I truly felt like I was. The content on my for you page was generally well-rounded and gave me interesting perspectives, news, niche edits and fun craft ideas.
I wanted to include a startling figure of how many hours I spent on TikTok prior to deleting it, but the data was erased with the app. I can ballpark, however, estimating a cool 4 hours a day- minimum.
I sent at least 20 TikToks to my friends a day. I love sharing videos that I think my friends would enjoy with them, and I do feel less connected to my friends, both on campus and at home, now that I’ve destroyed that fun means of communication.
Yes, I have migrated over to Instagram reels, which I find resembles my late TikTok more and more, but it’s not the same. Because of this, I spend less time scrolling, but I still struggle to focus while completing menial tasks.
I often find myself picking up my phone, searching for TikTok, remembering that it’s gone and begrudgingly opening Instagram, like a desperate ex settling for a rebound.
I’ve sat at my desk for four hours writing his short piece and spent more than half of that time on my phone, but I couldn’t tell you what I was looking at in those two-plus hours… concerning.
Upon writing that last line, I took my detox one step further and deleted Instagram. I’m going all in.
I already have a headache about it.