The Era of distracted life

The Loop We Live In

“You should get distracted well. Go and get distracted properly.”

Really?

Yes, go.

So I turn off the screen and let distraction take over. But it doesn’t fully take over. Somewhere in the background, the task is still running in my mind. And when I finally sit down to answer those thoughts, I get distracted again.

What kind of loop is this?

I come to work and get distracted. Then I do those distractions that push me back to work again.

A → C and C → A.

The missing point is B — focus.

The longer I stay in B, the better I feel. That is the real state of alignment.

So the question becomes: How do I move from A to B, and from C to B?

The answer feels simple, yet impossible: just go.

Let everything else flow naturally.

My wife is cooking. My mind says, Go check if she needs help.

That thought jumps me from A to C.

My phone is right in front of me, quietly asking me to check it “just once.”

When I do, what it shows creates chemicals in my brain — and my responses are driven by those chemicals.

Every pop-up triggers an impulse.

How Did We Get Here?

Once, humans performed on stages.

Mono acting.

Miming.

Cameras capturing scenes.

Stories being written.

Art direction, lighting, sound, editing, rendering — and finally, an audience watching and paying.

Then came screens.

We told the brain to watch, to feel, to connect — using chemicals to simulate experience.

Then came the phone.

At first, it was just communication. Calling. Texting. A wired phone without wires. We memorized numbers. That was it.

Then came keypads with alphabets. SIM cards. Cafeteria stalls selling recharge coupons. Curiosity spread. Innovation followed money.

Games appeared.

Cameras arrived.

Galleries stored memories.

Alarms, calendars, radios, music players, browsers, search engines.

We searched for small facts and accidentally opened doors to the entire world — including what we never intended to see.

Usability split into addiction.

Phones became personal. Internet access exploded. One generation fell first, then another. Millions per second. East to west. North to south.

Bluetooth sharing. Small circles. Manageable.

Then Orkut.

Then Facebook — subtle at first, viral soon after.

Then WhatsApp.

Then free video calls.

The world glued itself to a screen.

Phones became smartphones. Apps ran in parallel. Screens split. Data was collected. Behavior was analyzed. Interfaces were perfected.

The goal was simple: keep the user engaged without interruption.

Security grew not to protect humans — but to protect attention pipelines.

These applications grew like dinosaurs, fed by billions of users. The dopamine hits were endless. That’s business. That’s money. That’s service.

We Are Being Used

Not just used — we are paid to work for them, and then we pay them back with our attention, our data, our time.

What went wrong?

For me, it started around 2008. For my dad, earlier. It’s safe to say the year 2000 marked the real beginning.

Needs were fulfilled early. What followed was marketing disguised as innovation.

Twenty-six years later, growth hasn’t stopped — but innovation has slowed. Now it’s optimization, persuasion, and extraction.

We call it social media.

We danced. We sang. We displayed talent. Popularity turned users into marketers. The loop fed itself.

So where are we now?

You’re holding one of these devices while reading this.

Are We Still Living Outside the Screen?

Physically, yes.

Mentally, no.

Remove the phone for two weeks and life begins to reset. Routines return. Intentions become clear. Some call it digital detox.

But real life doesn’t have exams forcing us to focus.

We still have a choice — but we’ve forgotten what life looked like 26 years ago.

I won’t end this with motivation. I don’t see an option to throw phones away and return to primitive life. I wouldn’t want that either.

The alternative is to go with the flow — into AI-generated realities — and slowly forget what it means to be human.

Are we doomed?

If “doomed” means:

• focus failing
• deep knowledge fading
• creativity weakening
• long-form connection disappearing
• relationships thinning

Then yes — parts of us are already failing.

Yet technology itself isn’t evil. Everything around us is technology. The issue is what we lose in exchange.

A Simple Example

I open my phone.

I see my dad’s photo — I feel distance, time, aging.

Swipe. A random image.

Swipe. My grandma — another emotional pull.

Swipe. Me driving.

Swipe. My parents’ anniversary.

Swipe. Work screenshots.

Emotion after emotion — never completed.

The brain tries to connect, but it’s interrupted. Over time, it gets fatigued. When real moments arrive, there’s nothing left to feel.

Memories replay once as meaning. Replay them repeatedly and they become regret loops.

The Core Problem

Technology evolved.

The brain didn’t.

We are feeding a centuries-old organ with infinite, rapid-fire stimulation. Eventually, it loses its natural rhythm.

Humanity survived kingdoms, wars, art, science, space, oceans, industries, revolutions.

All of this brought us here — to a magnificent life.

But who sustains that life?

Not them.

Us.

And to do that, we must stay functional, focused, human.

Yet the system says:

“Stay here. Act like others. Use what we give you. Experience what we define as life.”

Run to the forest?

Start with basics?

You won’t be abandoned — but you’ll be irrelevant.

So yes, you can travel, party, laugh —

But you will never be completely free.

The Brutal Truth

If you help us build systems that slowly destroy humanity — and profit from it — you are welcome.

If you want to build something genuinely better — try your luck.

End of analysis.

Prithvi here and now.