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This is the all too real tale of a modern-day youth struggling in an all too techy world.

Photo by Graphic by Hannah Klemme

Sara Zaleski, Staff Reporter

“Why is this keyboard so small?”  

“How does one Tumblr?”  

“Where’s the selfie button?”

While sitting blankly in front this screen, these shrieks shoot through the air only to bounce off of the eardrums of me, the youth.

At one point in life, my proudest moments rested beneath the questions of the technologically lost. They craved my assistance, for without it, their dimming screens fell hopelessly into a black abyss. I delighted in providing this coveted advice; my heart floated on this cloud of knowledge.

Fast forward five years and life gets real. Real rough.

Although an exact date eludes my mind, somewhere within the timeline of my high school experience, I lost the capability to comprehend computers. More accurately, technology in general.

Through a combination of clumsiness and ignorance, I have broken three cameras, shattered, and re-shattered, two phones, and authorized enough online accounts to satisfy North America’s population. It makes no sense.

You can view my daily struggle from any point in this school, because chances are that my mishaps go beyond my own screen. But, honestly, I would have no way of knowing.

To more accurately describe the magnitude of my issues, I will confess that I have only recently learned how to work the heater in the 2004 Honda Pilot that I drive, a piece of engineering that has literally existed for decades. I still cannot figure out how to set preset radio stations on my alarm clock. I have more than 12,000 emails, and please do not try to send me new text lingo.

As a member of team Android, iPhones make very little sense to me and Mac computers are hopeless nightmares. Why is it set to Safari instead of Google? How do I escape this group chat? Who are these people in this group chat? Why are the icons bouncing? What does Control + P do again? My mind refuses to accept this logic!

I cry out to heaven regularly in despair, because I am sure that I was placed in the wrong millennium. Yet, as my tears fall onto this iPad and register as a finger deleting these words, I accept my reality.

Netflix and the DVR are kind, and God only knows how many times autocorrect has saved me. It is 2016 and society won’t be bringing back the rotary phone anytime soon.

Welcome to the future, my friends. Lol.