Sitting in a corner of a closet around past ten at dusk was me, trying to sort out the apps in my iPhone 13—°fancy huh?°

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°•Nothing keeps you up late at dusk better than a talking gadget. •°

My •curlified•  hair stood jam-packed in my blue hair bonnet. My brown eyes I could see, hanging in the screen of my device as a reflection—a proof of my advertency. I increased the volume of the music playing from my earbud and rocked my head back and forth, corresponding with the rhythm of the song. And at the same time, mouthing gibberish with all seriousness, which I thought to be the exact lyrics of the song. I adjusted the earbud in my left ear and rocked my head even more, singing passionately.

I watched the applications dance and fall into their respective places of order—in an alphabetical form.

The graphics and creativity of my gadget thrilled my spirit!

I controlled the activities on the phone screen swiftly, with my polished nails glistening. It was going to be a •looooooong• night!

I was so upbeat to have finally gotten a good phone, one of the best phones. I could finally fit in among the rest and flaunt my new billion dollar phone.  :

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°•We live in a world where your worth can be defined by the device in your hand. •°

Most of all, I couldn’t wait to own an account in all of the social media platforms and have friends, post cool stuff and get a lot of followers.

       It wasn’t my first time of using a phone, but it was my first time of OWNING a phone and my first attempt to be on any social media platform. So it turned out that I really had parents who wanted to protect me from the "peril" of the media as much as possible.

They guided every activity I did on my phone like I was some sort of a prisoner. They were simply extremists. I missed out on all the fun of social media and I was only limited to gaining information from my friends.

I wasn’t too bothered about being on those social media platforms anyway; I lived a fun, colourful life in the outside world. °Colourful—like literally°—I had my paint brushes and imaginations to keep me company.

I loved colours and painting was the best way to express myself. I painted every single day; I painted to tell a story, to express my grief or fury and for entertainment and relaxation.

I would lock myself up in my room with loud music and splash colours all over myself and of course, on my clipboard.

The walls in my room barely had a breathing space as they were largely covered with artworks.

Three corners of the walls were filled with direct paintings: beneath was a beautiful blue sea. There were also mountains, birds, leaves, and the happy, blue sky. It was my picture of a perfect world, even though the world was in no way perfect, free from struggles and the influence of a supposed opposing virtual force.

I had a separate room for storing my artworks; there were thousands of them. I was dedicated to intense studying. And I never blamed my parents for their decision.

I was pretty great at observing things; perhaps it’s just the trait of an introvert. I as well loved flowers, thus Remi referred to me as an “anthophile.” °Whatever that is.°

Out of the blue, my parents surprised me with a new phone and coincided to me joining anything I wanted to. Just like that?

At first, I had assumed it was because my grades were •topped•. But hey, I had always been an •acer• before now. Why get me a phone all of a sudden? I could not apprehend the whole thing but happy I was anyway.

Would I ever find out why they did this?

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         Remi helped with the installation of new apps, he got my Facebook, Whatsapp, Instagram, and TikTok account working, and fascinating apps too.

I received a video call call from him by 10pm.

“Hey, girl. Wow. Cheers to our first video call. Your head looks so big from my screen.”

I laughed, “well-done.”

“So what are you up to?”

“Organizing things in here. I still need your help with some stuff though.”

“Yeah, when we meet in school tomorrow. I also need to enlighten you on how to make conversations online since you’re just starting. It’s needful and you’ll thank me later.”

“Uuuugh," I grumbled, "be snappy about everything. I’m sleepy already.”

"Just promise me one thing, Temi."

"That you won't change."

"How?" I raised an eyebrow.    o

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"You know... You're arriving on social media for the first time ever and believe me, it's really fascinating. I hope you can handle it."

"I really don't understand you. I'm not a kid. We're literally age mates—if you can handle it then why can't I?"

"I don't always have control over my phone, sometimes I feel like it controls me. You might begin to understand why your parents restricted you from the internet for so many years. You see..."

And then, the wise preacher spake words of boringness in my ears.  °~°

My lashes fell upon each other as my eyes got shut and I gradually became unconscious.

“Temi! Don’t tell me you’re dozing off. Temi! Temi!” I heard the persistent voice hover in my head.

It got louder and louder by the minute and before I knew what was happening, the voice was accompanied by loud thuds. “Temi! Doesn’t this child realize that today is Monday? Temitope!”

Finally, I heard the cacophonous sound of my alarm and that did the job—I awoke. I grumbled and fumbled my hand through the table to freeze the sound.

I immediately opened my eyes wide.

I sat properly on my bed and wore my slippers. I sat still and observed the view from out the window on the opposite side. It was 6’0clock in the morning; a brand new day.

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⚘THE LEXICOGRAPHY⚘

                   *CURLIFIED*

  ΩHaving curls.

ΩHaving been made to appear in a curly form.

∆My •curlified•  hair stood jam-packed in my blue hair bonnet∆

                     *TOPPED*

ΩMade to reach the top.

∆my grades were •topped•∆

                      *ACER*

ΩOne who often acquires an A in exams.

∆But hey, I had always been an •acer•∆

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