I remember…

I remember not being connected.
I remember not hearing a ping every 30 seconds, conversations without distractions and paying attention to those in my physical presence.
I remember silence. 
I remember getting lost and being found, making plans to have friends around. I remember trivial arguments that lasted hours and learning – not through Google, but through literary scours.
I remember exploration.
I remember socializing over food instead of feeds, and falling in love in a room instead of through my profile’s needs. I remember buying a girl a drink, instead of sending her a wink; spending an evening making eyes instead of drunk-texting late at night.
I remember love.
I remember life being so much simpler when my phone didn’t let out a whimper that fueled my anxious temper and pushed me towards the edge. I remember sleeping through the night, not a digital thing in sight, or a buzz or blinking light, that may not actually be there.
I remember relaxation.
I remember a different age, less advanced but less depraved, when the whole world was still a stage, but we didn’t tweet our lines. I remember silence and exploration, love and relaxation, and in a time where we weren’t connected, I felt more in touch with myself.
I remember not being connected.