Save Me From TikTok Brain Rot

Scroll, like, comment, scroll, swipe, search, scroll, and repeat. Sound after sound, trend after trend, and minutes after minutes. As the little screen in my hand plays me a movie’s length of TikToks, I genuinely believe I can feel my brain rot. 

I was supposed to start writing this article hours ago, yet I offered myself a break from work in the form of media consumption. Suddenly it wasn’t 7:00pm anymore, because I just looked at the clock and saw it was almost midnight. There’s a slight ache in my head and all I’ve gained from the evening has been more knowledge about Jojo Siwa that I learned against my will and all the methods in which I could improve myself that all the “hot girls” are already doing. 

I wish I could say that my media dependency was a recent development, however, I haven’t forgotten about the girl who used to stay up all night scrolling through Tumblr in middle school. Perhaps my younger brain could handle it better, though, considering I still managed to get up the next day with the sunrise. I would successfully face the world equipped with five hours of sleep and the latest chapter of my favorite Harry Potter fanfiction fresh in my mind. 

Today, I feel as if two lectures and an assignment are enough to grant me a free evening despite the mountain of work begging to be noticed on my Canvas dashboard. I’ve grown to adopt the term “iPad kid” as I load up a YouTube video to accompany my lunch, exiting every video that doesn’t grab my attention immediately. I tune in and out of conversations with others, allowing my attention to be stolen by any passing thought my inner monologue whispers. I’ve made too many jokes about adding a Subway Surfer’s gameplay below every task I tackle for it just to be a bit at this point.

If I ever wondered about something a few years ago, I would turn to the search engine most are closely familiar with, Google. Now, my primary search engine is TikTok. From hairstyles to pop culture, and politics to online shopping. The first place I hear the news, whether it be a groundbreaking news story or an actor’s latest controversy, is always TikTok. 

My life has become a constant search for the immediate gratification loop a little app has granted me. My tiny attention span faces a battle every day and my time is lost the second I open TikTok. When I’m not scrolling, the absence of continuous visual stimulation now tricks my brain into believing I have a dopamine depletion when in reality, I’m simply at a normal level. 

In other words, TikTok has caused me major brain rot. 

Unfortunately, this isn’t a surprise. Articles and research studies have been published for years regarding TikTok’s impact on our capacity to focus. Videos that implement bright colors and little text require little energy to digest, possibly leading to a feeling of disappointment or distaste whenever more focus is asked of us. Despite its individually curated algorithm, the app still displays videos that may not be of interest. Still, its quick-paced conveyor belt of media leaves you scrolling after a let-down to find your next dopamine boost. 

The phrase “doomscrolling” is typically used to describe the action of absentmindedly scrolling social media for hours on end, but I find this term to be a bit nuanced with TikTok. Some define it as just the consumption of media for long periods, while others associate it with a consumption of negative information, oftentimes leading to increased stress or anxiety. 

Popularized terms such as “TikTok Brain” and referring to the app as a “dopamine machine” showcase that I’m not alone. Unsurprisingly, I find little comfort in my newfound community of TikTok zombies. Many describe the app as a “quick fix” to the new lingering gloom of dull moments throughout one’s day. One click later and I’m feeding into my ever-growing dependency to stay as far away from boredom as possible. 

I’m unsure of whether the fear of boredom is something that the raging dopamine machine encouraged in me. Even so, I feel less grounded in myself after recognizing it. What happened to my ability to find content in the quiet moments? Surely it isn’t lost, I can still sit on the grass and draw when I have nothing else to do. Nevertheless, I put my airpods in, opened my phone to play a song, and kept my iPad open with a reference sketch from Pinterest. I always engulf myself in a bubble of media even when the whole outside world is trying so hard to envelope me. 

There’s truly no escape from the screens in my life… or at least it feels that way. I grew up on the internet, from online gaming as a child to blogging like my life depended on it. There’s just something different about my relationship with TikTok. I can so clearly see all the ways it’s bad for me, but cannot ignore the sense of community it fosters around me. 

A quick turnover of trends that burn bright yet last for just days provides an abundance of jokes for me to immediately connect with my friends and strangers over. A simple reference or a “Have you seen that one TikTok…?” and now I’m sharing laughter with someone. I have to wonder whether we’re all TikTok zombies who are happy to just be around each other. How dystopian. 

I took a break from the app during the winter and was able to reconnect with hobbies that didn’t involve any screens, like reading or just going on walks without the need for music. My break was short-lived as FOMO clawed at my leg begging for attention. Why was it so lonely outside of this community of TikTok zombies? Why did I want to get all their inside jokes and references once more? To feel as if I was part of something, even if it amounted to nothing more than a headache. At the end of the day, I’m left typing “Quick headache cures” into TikTok’s search and swearing it’s just because I don’t drink enough water when the cause is in front of my face. 

I would recommend tips for unplugging at this point and ways to throw yourself into life beyond the apps and screens. Unfortunately, I don’t have any besides the ones we’ve all heard. Our world is advancing technologically in ways I couldn’t have imagined years ago, and that means community means something more than a club or sports team. Our sense of belonging continues to transcend into online spheres, making it harder to unplug when our generation’s bonding is built on sharing videos, seeing what friends are reposting, scrolling through comments, and more. 

One note, though, is that I feel alleviated after writing this all down. Piecing all these thoughts together has served as an outlet for my frustration. Even with the app as an accessory, I am the culprit in the crime of the stolen time out of my day. At this point, there’s no doubt that it’s time to do something about it.

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• health
• media
• technology
• tiktok
• ucsb