You would never imagine a fruit as simple as the Berry family could actuate a substance abuse effect as much as constitute a nuisance of incomparable magnitude, until you taste the Blackberry (& don't get me started on Apple). Gone are the days when fruits were just a nutritious staple, now they are the new high...welcome to the 21st century.
(Tongue out) I got my phone with the simple intent of keeping in touch with the world & to satisfy that silent, smug feeling that comes with you telling people "I use a Blackberry" (talk about Complex), but little did I know I was indirectly admitting myself into the Blackberry mental institution. Once you enter, a number of identification is assigned to you called PIN. So, instead of swapping phone numbers or exchanging complimentary cards with fellow inmates, you quickly dole out PINs without forgetting to let everybody know you use a BB bold or torch (You better not mention curve or javelin & woe betide you if you try too hard to belong by saying you own a BB pearl) how dare you be so poor. By the way, a monthly admission fee called BIS, depending on service provider, is a requisite which at first might seem affordable; when you're still forming...until...the berry buries your wallet.
Now, fast forward x32 couple of months & hundred of BBM contacts later, that's when your meds' effect dwindle & the psychosis starts taking its toll. By now--like me--you must have, ditched your novels/books, stopped watching the tube, even cable. In short you stop having a life & now a permanent resident at the Blackberry ICU: You wake up holding your BB (that bible you used to read for devotion is becoming stale), meanwhile you slept late..say around 3am tweeting/downloading with your BB--network was sleek right? (welcome to club insomnia). Once out of bed, its business as usual, you ping: in the shower, loo, on top okada, everywhere imaginable...while you carry your charger/extra battery along.
And all of a sudden you've earn a Phd in shorthand (smh, lol, btw, idgf, brb, ikr... Dnt wory dey coin nu 1s evry sec).
Ok! Now play in slow motion! Between updating your BBM status to warn off dumb broadcasters who are compelling you to forward a message or else experience a mishap (As if being in the loony bin ain't bad enough) & you gladly pushing the delete button on these annoying contacts with all the attitude of a dramaqueen & you muttering the worst expletive your faculty can muster as you angrily reply some Perv for inboxing you some sexually pervert text on Facebook, you wouldn't mind but wonder (Na who send me work sef). Not to mention the theatrics of begging for follow backs, celeb insults, tweet fight, inane tweets...on Twitter sorry I meant Ubersocial, which is all fun, except you waste a good part of your life here.
Back to normal play mode & almost all BBM contacts gone, you may start to sense the need that you require help (Yes! Psychological help) in context of what your BB puts you through, but like any psycho that is so far along in his head, you can't actually come to grips with the fact that you need HELP. Don't forget these are institutionalized people.
FYI, as a BB junkie myself, I am contemplating BB rehab as I write this on my BB, but rehab is expensive, plus my BIS will soon expire so I need to start saving up for my next admission fee. & that's just a tip of BB user's life.
PS: Did I mention persons of certain age who ought to be in nursing homes are stuck here too, clueless as to what to do & why they are in Freud's Haven.
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