Is this concept of a media fast really what I need? I feel so utterly opposed to it, yet subtly drawn to it. At this point it seems impossible for me to tear the feeble strands I have tied to various parts of the world out of my fractious fists; these frayed connections that I have so inextricably linked to my identity. Do I really need to purge myself of these things? Perhaps through the process of disconnecting, my connection with my alien land will grow and develop, sprout new leaves and bud into something I have not yet experienced.

The first day of my fast opens a door to some new connections in my life I had not foreseen, which is exciting and different: the withdrawals of my addiction have not yet hit. My confidence and arrogance grow—not the sort of growth I was hoping to come from this abstinence. My new connections, which happen to be with flesh and blood, not a keyboard and a touchpad, begin to offer a distraction from what has become an integral portion of the social relationships in my life.

“Only the strong succeed.” Really Doede? I seem to be doing just fine. I’m not thinking about my Facebook, my email, or YouTube. My identity is not linked to the blue and white facade. I hold no concern for what is going on in other parts of the world. I resist the urge to log on, to read posts, to chat, to connect to others I know and love. I try to occupy my mind with concerns of a different nature, perhaps even superior to that of social networking. As my fast progresses, I convince myself that this is a worthy pursuit.

Then it is as if music notes begin to squeeze through my unoccupied fingertips in the form of “Lux Aeterna,” most notably performed by the Kronos Quartet: a song of addiction, a song of loss. What had I lost? I had lost touch. Lost touch with the world. Lost touch with what was happening in other people’s lives. Unfortunately, I am bound by this phenomenon of social media. I am out of reach, and my Facebook is able to stretch its arms, claw through the distance, and bring me comfort. Yes, it’s pathetic. Yes, it’s sad, but so is being alone in a foreign land. This occurred to me on about the third day, when I was begging my roommate for my unknown password to unlock my connections.

And yes, through my social media experiment, there has been growth. I have reflected, realised, rationalised, ranted, repented and relinquished some of the control social media had on my life. I have developed some friendships that needed attention. And I am now a little less lonely.

Doede believes that “if we are not extremely careful in how we allow these sites to enter our lives, we will find our capacities to attend to other humans with the care and sensitivity they deserve subtly yet profoundly diminished.” Perhaps. But expecting one to abandon relationships for the sake of the unknown dangers of social media—that is, attending to some “humans with care and sensitivity” but losing touch with others altogether—seems “subtly yet profoundly” worse.