The average person now spends more than seven hours a day on a screen. Phones have become our clocks, calendars, cameras, entertainment, social lives, and workspaces. What once felt like convenience has quietly turned into dependence.
For Gen Z, this reality is all we’ve ever known. We are the first generation to grow up fully immersed in the internet, and the last to remember what life felt like before it consumed nearly every aspect of our day. The next generation won’t know a world without constant connectivity at all.
And yet, something is shifting.
Across my generation, there’s a shared craving for slower living. We’re all feeling it — the desire to unplug, to reconnect with real spaces, real people, and real experiences. Whether it’s through physical books, film cameras, paper planners, or simply choosing to be more present, there’s a collective push toward something quieter, more intentional, and more human.
Social media has shaped our mental health in deeply complicated ways. For myself, for friends I know, and for countless people I see sharing their stories online, the impact has been heavy. The constant comparison, the endless “self-help” language, the flood of opinions, and the pressure to always be improving — it becomes exhausting.
We are constantly being told how to fix ourselves, how to look, how to live, how to heal. Even rest has become productive. Even growth has become content.
And in all of that noise, we’ve lost something simple but powerful: presence.
Going analog is not about rejecting technology. It’s about de-centering it. It’s about choosing physical, tangible experiences over digital ones when we can — not because the internet is evil, but because our lives are bigger than our screens.
There is something different about writing in a real notebook. About holding a physical book. About looking at a watch instead of a phone. About sitting across from someone and actually seeing them. These moments ask us to slow down. They ask us to be here.
For me, digital life has always felt overwhelming. I’ve never been deeply attached to technology, and for a 23-year-old woman in 2026, that feels almost rebellious. I crave real spaces. I crave quiet. I crave things that don’t buzz, update, or refresh every five seconds.
And that craving is the foundation of 224 Media.
My brand was built on the idea of bringing back print, bringing back slower living, and reminding people that connection doesn’t have to be online to be meaningful. Analog living isn’t just a lifestyle choice for me — it’s a mission. It’s about grounding ourselves in the real world again.
Because while the internet connects us, it also distances us. It flattens experiences. It turns life into content. And when everything becomes something to post, we stop fully living it.
I worry about what future generations might lose without analog experiences. The depth of real conversation. The patience of slow growth. The beauty of boredom. The kind of human connection that doesn’t come with filters, captions, or algorithms.
There is a different type of growth that happens when we are unplugged. A quieter kind. A more honest one.
Going analog is about reclaiming that.
It’s about choosing intention over impulse. Presence over performance. Real life over curated life.
And maybe, in slowing down, we find ourselves again.
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