Opening Doorz
“Celebrating Life”
By Nex Scriba | Opening Doorz Editorial | April 22, 2025 Alright, come closer, tired internet wanderers, and let’s take a moment to remember the end of social media’s best […]
By Nex Scriba | Opening Doorz Editorial | April 22, 2025
Alright, come closer, tired internet wanderers, and let’s take a moment to remember the end of social media’s best days—or as I like to call it, the “Age of Never-Ending Scrolling.” Better still, “Era of the Eternal Scroll.”
Ah, those halcyon days of curated sunsets and avocado toast. Now it’s just a battleground of sponsored posts and algorithmically-generated existential dread. You scroll, you double-tap, you silently question your life choices, and then you watch a reel of a cat falling off a counter.
Repeat ad infinitum. The luster, my friends, has gone the way of the dodo, the dial-up modem, and my youthful optimism.
And Facebook? Oh, Facebook. Once the digital town square, now a geriatric ward where your aunt shares conspiracy theories and your high school acquaintance sells essential oils. The only thing “liked” anymore is the occasional cat video, usually forwarded from WhatsApp.
WhatsApp. That once-pure sanctuary of familial and witty banter with friends is now a digital landfill of forwards. “Good morning! May your day be blessed with 1000 blessings and 7 viral diseases!”
“Forward this to 10 people or your toaster will explode!” It’s like a digital game of hot potato, except the potato is a steaming pile of misinformation. Remember when email forwards were a novelty? Now, WhatsApp is its equivalent. Except, it comes every five minutes! Do you remember the chain letter that was delivered to you by your postman in the 80s?
And let’s not forget the reels. Oh, the reels. Those bite-sized nuggets of distraction are designed to keep your attention span shorter than a goldfish’s. You watch them, you forward them, you forget them instantly. It’s like eating digital cotton candy—sweet, fleeting, and utterly devoid of nutritional value. Your phone’s storage cries out in agony, each pixel a tiny scream for mercy.
Once revered as digital deities, they’re just hawking teeth whitening kits and questionable diet supplements. Their sheen has faded, much like my hope for a decent night’s sleep after scrolling through endless “get rich quick” schemes.
And the podcasts? Ah, the podcasts. The new frontier of audio content, where everyone with a microphone thinks they have something philosophical to say. It turns out that many people just talk a lot and have an endless desire to sell you their “life coaching” package. They won’t mention that they are trying to get rich quickly by luring you into clicking their reels and sharing their content. So, who is the sucker?
Podcasts are a digital echo chamber, where everyone is scratching each other’s backs, desperate to stay relevant. No one dares to ask the tough questions, because, well, who has the time? We’re all too busy scrolling, forwarding, and trying to remember what our friends’ faces look like in real life!
We’re drowning in content, yet parched for meaning. Our retinas are burning, our brains are fried, and our memories are as fragmented as a broken screen. We’ve become digital hoarders, collecting virtual trinkets we will never use.
So, what now? After the social media overload and the digital deluge, how can we reclaim our attention spans? How do we find meaning in a world where everything is fleeting and disposable?
Are we destined to become digital zombies, forever scrolling and forwarding? Or can we find a way to reclaim our minds, reconnect with the real world, to rediscover the joy of genuine human connection?
Perhaps we need a digital detox, a retreat from the endless stream of information and distraction. Maybe we need to rediscover the lost art of conversation, of genuine human interaction. Perhaps we need to learn to appreciate the beauty of quiet moments—moments without notifications, reels, forwards, or scrolling during our meals.
Perhaps, the answer is to go outside, touch grass, and ask someone, “How are you really doing?” And then, listen. Really listen. In a world of digital noise, sometimes the most insightful connection is found in the quiet moments of genuine human interaction.
Or maybe, we should forward this to ten people and hope our toaster doesn’t explode. You know, just in case. Because, let’s face it, in the grand scheme of digital obsolescence, who knows what’s next?
Hang on. Do we even remember Orkut? That digital graveyard of testimonials and awkwardly photoshopped profile pictures. It was like a fleeting fever dream, a social media platform that arrived with the fanfare of a Bollywood premiere and departed with the quiet dignity of a forgotten houseplant. One moment, you were carefully crafting your “scraps,” and the next, Google decided they were as irrelevant as a floppy disk in the age of cloud computing. They vanished so quickly that they barely had time to update their privacy policy.
You’d log in, expecting to see your digital friends and find only the digital equivalent of tumbleweeds and a single, lonely testimonial from someone who still used Comic Sans. It was like watching a social media platform get Thanos-snapped out of existence, leaving behind only the faint, lingering scent of digital nostalgia and the bewildered question, “Wait, what happened to my virtual farm?”
Given that even digital behemoths can become relics overnight, the safest bet is to unplug, touch grass, and keep a fire extinguisher handy for the toaster.
Just in case.
So, before you scroll to the next reel or forward another ‘inspirational’ quote, take a moment. Pause. Reflect on your relationship with social media. Are you in control of your feed—or is it controlling you? Have you traded meaningful moments for mindless content?
Share your thoughts in the comments, forward this to someone who needs a wake-up call, and let’s start a real conversation—one not powered by algorithms, but by honesty.
[Through thought-provoking narratives, Nexa Scriba explores the realities of our society, urging reflection and action.]
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