It can be nice, sometimes. Lying on the top of your bed, your feet tucked into the covers as your eyes glaze over and your thumb scrolls through an endless abyss of meaningless content. It’s nice that it’s meaningless — your brain finally gets to be turned off after hours of overwork and overstress. It’s a simple, almost artful method of instant gratification.

These are the good days of bed rotting. It’s what keeps you from throwing your phone into the ocean because you know you’re horribly addicted. The calm, lulling feeling of surrendering your attention for a couple of hours before bed is too good to give up. You need the “me time.” This is self-care. You occasionally toy around with the idea of buying a flip phone, but always decide you need your iPhone for moments of sweet relief lik

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