The world is testing me. In the most first-world problem way, but it is testing me, nonetheless. Nowadays we live in a society where the minute someone says take a five minute break, everyone takes out their cell phones, successfully blocking out the people around them. A phone is a safety net, source of communication, fun activity, alarm, music player, and isolator all rolled into one. But what happens when that’s taken away unexpectedly? Could you handle it?

Recently I dropped my phone into the toilet. This was obviously a stupid and clumsy mistake that successfully put me back $50 to fix. There was a catch to this fixing fee, however: two full days without it in my possession. Naturally, I whined and moaned like any college girl would, but I reluctantly handed over my water-damaged phone and got into the car.

At first it was really no big deal. I assumed the two days would fly by and all would be swell. It wasn’t too long after that naïve thought I began to feel awkward. When on breaks from sorority recruitment prep I would try to engage in conversation with others around me, only to be met with silence. Looking around the room full of about 60 girls, I could count on one hand how many didn’t have their phones out. It made me self-conscious to think I might have also ignored someone at some point or another when I was too busy checking a meaningless text or app.

The next instance that came about was the oh so dreaded, “Why didn’t you respond to my text?” inquiry. I explained the situation to my friend that nodded along and moved on to whatever dire (but totally wasn’t) question she had to ask me. I am no stranger to being annoyed by a no reply, but in that moment I realized truly how silly it is, especially when what I have to say is nothing crazy important.

Now here’s the situation that truly got to me: the outside-looking-in feeling of not being able to keep up with my group chats. My friends laughed about a joke said in a message, and I stood there mute, as I had no idea what had passed between them that I missed out on. Suddenly I became all too aware that we live in a universe with two worlds. Though I was present in this moment with my friends, that doesn’t mean they weren’t living in a limbo of reality and the virtual world.

In those 48 hours, Facebook, Instagram and Twitter weren’t just apps I’ve wasted way too many hours looking at, but a society of people I care to keep up with on a daily basis I wasn’t hearing from. I found myself caring too much about what pictures my friends had just posted, even though I was standing four feet away from them when they took it. It didn’t matter. I still wanted to see it online and have the ability to like it and leave a sassy comment. I wanted that virtual world back, but I was also disappointed in how that made me feel.

I don’t want to live in a world where I have to be concerned about people texting and driving, ignoring loved ones at dinner tables, and isolating myself from the rest of the world all because of a cell phone. Even though I will be grateful to reenter the technological world, I’d like to think that these 48 hours have done me a lot of good. Next time, I’ll think twice about responding to that pointless text while out to eat with friends, or keep the phone on mute and hold a conversation with my sorority sister during recruitment. Technology is great and has done so much for society, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t look up from time to time and see if there is more to life.