Oreo (I do camera things)

Scrolling is pure evil. An hour of brainrot doesn’t just leave a hole where something meaningful could have been but also actively degrades the machinery you’d need to fill that hole. It corrupts your capacity for sustained attention. Books become harder, conversations feel slower, your own thoughts start to bore you. Over time, the range of things that can hold your interest narrows until you’re left with a shrinking circle of stimulation that only the algorithm can satisfy. It erodes your relationship to yourself. Curiosity fades. Compassion requires a kind of patient attention that atrophies. You stop wondering what you care about because the question itself feels effortful. What’s left is a stable, “comfortable” numbness. Not only five years subtracted from your life, but a slow hollowing out of the person who would have lived them.