I woke up yesterday at 8：15 a.m. and instinctively1 reached for my MacBook. I checked my emails and how many people had liked the article I wrote yesterday， on which someone had commented that they wanted me to kill myself. I climbed out of bed， showered， brushed my teeth， and made a cup of tea—though not before checking social media again and sending my girlfriend a meme2.
　　At my desk， I spent half an hour scrolling through my Facebook feed， skimming information I have little interest in， like someone with a life sentence reluctantly reading every book in the prison library.3 Someone I went to school with is getting married. I read a think piece4 about effective time management， and three pointless articles： an egg exploded in a microwave， a woman lost weight for her wedding， and someone was arrested for punching a police horse. It’s now nearly 11：15 a.m.， and nothing in this vortex5 of irrelevance has helped me pay my rent.
　　Social media sucks the productivity out of me like this every day， half my time consumed by digital procrastination.6 I need the internet to work， of course. But my rampant7 web use doesn’t feel healthy， and certainly isn’t productive. As I write this， I have 27 browser tabs open and only four are related to my work.8 None of these tools help users to manage their time effectively—quite the reverse9.

Facebook、Twitter、Instagram和Tinder等社交媒體已经成为现代人际交往的基石，人们在上面晒图发帖，获得朋友的评论点赞，以赢得归属感和认同感。的确，社交媒体有很多好处和积极的影响，然而它们也会浪费我们的时间，分散我们的精力和注意力，甚至让人上瘾，不能自拔。本文的作者就曾沉迷于社交媒体，然而最近，他想出了一个很好的方法来转移自己的注意力……

　　I’m aware I may have an “addictive personality，” and can be excessive with anything from drugs to Netflix and Pringles.10 I’m also aware that this susceptibility can be channelled in a positive way； I knew someone who was addicted to crack but got clean，11 and subsequently became addicted to library books—taking out the maximum amount before borrowing his wife’s library card to get his next hit.
　　So I decided to quit social media for a month， and when I felt the urge to login， I’d read a book instead. It could be glorious， I decided. It had to be better than where I was.
　　Day Two： By the second day of my experiment， I’d noticed my muscle memory urging me to type Facebook.com into my browser， like an athlete with a body finely tuned to perform the same motor movement over and over again.12 This “social media twitch13”happened progressively less throughout the month， and every time I felt it， I picked up a book. There were links to social media embedded14 in a lot of the digital articles I read， and that was hard. Now I know how recovering alcoholics feel when they walk past their local bar every day.

　　Day Six： Facebook’s omnipotent algorithm had noted my absence， and began to send ever more desperate emails to try to lure me back in.15
　　Day Eight： Facebook had emailed me five times to tell me I had 135 notifications16. It felt like inappropriate behavior from an ex-partner， maybe grounds for a restraining order？17 My cursor hovered over the login； I yearned to see who had sent me friend requests.18 My mind started to suggest I could have just one look， and then restart the experiment tomorrow， but I resisted， shut my laptop， and picked up Slouching Towards Bethlehem19.
　　There are some report of people feeling lonely and isolated when they quit social media. I live with 20 other people， so I always have someone to talk to. But I did feel “out of the loop”20 when it came to some conversations.
　　Day 12： I was having dinner with my girlfriend and her friends. Despite the fact that， in the U.K.， our politicians were taking part in a historic Brexit vote at that very moment， the hot topic of conversation was the stock image of an egg that had amassed over 50 million “likes” on Instagram.21 It broke the record for “likes” on a single post， previously held by Kylie Jenner.22
　　“Simon doesn’t know about any of this，” said my girlfriend， helpfully， “because he’s taking a break from social media.” I politely nod while considering how many cultural reference points I would miss if I continued my abstinence23 indefinitely. Could I still write about youth culture， or would I be too out of the loop？
　　In the past， national TV moments—the Super Bowl’s halftime show， the police pursuit of O. J. Simpson， and Nixon’s resignation speech—used to wield such cultural capital that everyone was talking about them the next day.24 Now， it’s memes and viral videos and Twitter threads that generate a much more fragmented discourse.25 I might not have been following some conversations but， hey， I was on my fourth book by then. It seemed worth it.
　　Day 18： I imagine what the trolls26 have been posting about my latest article. They probably still wish me dead， but I almost miss their hateful bile； I’ve always enjoyed the writertroll relationship in a perverse， self-flagellating kind of way.27 I miss them with the kind of begrudging28 affection a child might feel for an older sibling who bullies them. When I write for a few hours in the afternoon， I feel sharp29 and focused. My work is punctuated30 only by checking for updates on the Brexit. Things are looking up （for me， not for the U.K.）.