In 2026, we are expected to be tired. Or we already are. Habitually, we are deleting social media applications from our phones in a self-championed round of “digital detox”. However, the desire to detox is just one echo of exhaustion. Increasingly, we go out less, we spend more time in bed, we work or study from home, and we have fewer hobbies.
We feel this exhaustion; we know that we want to be more offline and present. As a result, psychologists, writers, and media specialists are starting to discuss what they are calling the ‘Great Exhaustion’, mediated by all the factors listed beforehand. We have no third spaces, no hobbies, and sadly, we prioritize work and money over our basic human needs. This isn’t an individual failing, but a structural one. The world is increasingly being built around us to be a business-needs-first society. It is no wonder that we turn to other mechanisms to cope.
When we are supposed to be more connected, and more fulfilled by each other than ever, why do we feel so tired? Why don’t we even have the cognitive space to properly engage?
Skibidi (Toilet), Gyat, and the Brain Rot of it all
When I started to write this article and sifted through meaningless brain rot terms I could use, I found out that Gyat stands for ‘Girl yo a** thick’, which was, unfortunately, one of the most revealing things from the research. You might be wondering: “What do the Tiktok sounds spouted from my cousin’s iPad have to do with being tired?”, but believe it or not, skibidi (toilet) affects us all.
Brain rot is the cognitive fatigue produced from the overconsumption of repetitive internet content. Referred to and felt by many as mind-numbing. This term, as I also found out, is nothing new. Thoreau coined it first, he also meant it the same way, superficial engagement with anything leads to a decay of the brain. Although, I think Thoreau would have an aneurysm if someone referred to him as the rizzler.
Funnily enough, Brain Rot was Oxford’s word of the year in 2024 and was shortlisted for a dozen other dictionaries and news outlets. I don’t think it is too far of a stretch to associate this term, and our superficial engagement, with the fact that the internet is making us tired. Brain rot is the foggy sensation resulting from hours of low-quality consumption. Brain rot does not physiologically alter the brain, but it does change our cognitive state and behavioral habits. It makes us tired and weakens our ability to engage in meaningful tasks or discussions.
You don’t have to be tuned into the cyclical sound bites of TikTok to be affected by brain rot. It is not just the meaningless terms thrown around. Brain rot is also consuming another episode of Sex in the City while scrolling through Instagram. It is reading the headline of a news article and deciding you, too, believe in that statement without picking up a book or article to learn about it. It is a disease that has perforated our daily lives. We are too exhausted by the oversaturation of content or the general overwhelming influx of it, to dig deeper.
Are we ever really off(line)?
How much are we truly detoxing? I scroll through videos on YouTube with buzz phrases like “fix your dopamine deficit” or “how to be in a serotonin surplus”, and then being stunted by the irony of looking online for ways to be offline. Still, these videos rely on the premise that you will reach enlightenment by deleting social media: elimination of such apps is the cure to our tiredness.
However, not only are these detoxes often short-lived, but disconnected doesn’t mean offline, does it? How do we escape our phones if they never really leave us? The phone sits like a presence at the table, next to our beds, in our bags. We know it’s there, like that awkward person lingering at the corner of a party, and whether we want to engage with them or not, inevitably we cave and do. Even in sleep, it sits urgently next to our beds. For most people, it’s the last thing they see before they close their eyes. Being inaccessible to the slew of reels that one friend won’t stop sending you does not mean you are offline.
Phones and media seem to be an extension of us in this increasingly digital world. We’re anxious without our little crutch. We check our messages as soon as we wake up, after class, during class. Some people can’t even make it across the small space that is Maastricht without a digital navigation system. I am not trying to criticize the digital nativeness we were raised in; I am just calling into the void to ask: can we truly be without this technology we are so reliant on?
The art of eye contact
In 2011, sociologist Sherry Turkle gave a TED talk calling for an elaborate discourse on the state of internet use. She warned the audience about excessive Blackberry use and raising digital natives, those who grow up with technology, the wrong way. Turkle anecdotes that kids look for their parents’ stare as they are picked up at the gates of the school, and they are disappointed when they compete for eye contact with a little black screen. This is increasingly prevalent, and little did she know that the internet was only at the precipice of reliance and excessive usage. Blackberrys are obsolete, Sherry.
I hate to be that person, but there is no escaping to that digital-free utopia. Deleting Instagram, I have found, does not ensure that you can focus on the article you want to write for the Diplomat. There is no hack, I fear, to stop your consumption, to optimize yourself, to fix your brain. I am by no means a technophobe nor a mindfulness skeptic. I think we can strike a balance between the demands of the internet and a digital free visit to a café with a friend. The internet exists to serve us, not the other way around. If you’re tired, go for a walk, read a book, or find a hobby. Touch grass, if you will. Stop expecting fast answers to slow responses. Your attention, and your time, is a valuable resource. There is no cutting digital media from our lives, but we can coexist.
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