This article was still written in a mixture of Chinese and English, and I translated it into Chinese and English separately with tools.

中文版本

我还活着...吗？

心跳一下，又一下，如此真实。可我究竟活在哪里？在13小时32分，在13小时14分……在屏幕冷冰冰的光里，像被数字裹挟的鬼魂。

上周，我启动了“数字健康”这个有点讽刺意味的应用，它记录着我与手机的亲密接触。我天真地以为，那些曲线和数字，那些警告，能帮我把手从这块发光的玻璃上掰下来。

然而，除了deadline逼近的周三，我依然平均每天对着屏幕9小时50分钟。比之前的11小时的确少了些，但依然像一块巨石，压得我喘不过气。

更可悲的是，在这近10个小时里，我几乎一无所获。没有成就感带来的喜悦，没有情绪价值的慰藉，更没有找到存在的意义。时间，就像沙子一样，从指缝间悄然流逝，只留下空虚的回响。

我无休止地滑动、点击、刷新，像一只困在信息茧房里的飞蛾，被五彩斑斓的光芒所迷惑，最终精疲力竭。待办事项越积越多，时间被切割成碎片，未读的书籍堆积如山，计划永远停留在“进行中”。

或许是源于这种无力感，又或许是积压已久的愤怒，我决定尝试一天的数字排毒，逃离这令人窒息的虚拟世界。

世界如此清澈

我开启了勿扰模式，将所有应用的通知权限关闭，像是在进行一场神圣的仪式。在与一些朋友、与网络世界短暂告别后，我开始了这场“修行”。

群组的消息不再每分钟跳动，微信只用于必要的支付，娱乐活动从社交媒体变成了维基百科和电子书。空闲的时间里，我开始学习多邻国，整理笔记，世界仿佛突然安静下来，变得清晰而真实。

我第一次如此专注地学习高等数学，我可以对着一个公式反复琢磨，而不用担心被打扰。没有消息提示音的轰炸，没有无孔不入的聊天和热点，我的世界里，只有时空的纯粹和思考的乐趣。

我知道，在这个时代，屏幕使用时间不可能为零。但看着“数字健康”中那数字和五彩圆环，我感到一种久违的轻松。这才是时间该有的样子，这才是生活该有的节奏。

反思

我活在此刻，专注于眼前的真实，而不是网络上的喧嚣。但我也清楚地意识到，这种“断舍离”的平静是短暂的，一旦我重新连接网络，FOMO的幽灵就会卷土重来。甚至在此刻，想到这里，我既希望一切安好的平静，又畏惧无人在意的萧索。

迈出第一步总是最难的，但这种强制性的开始也像一把双刃剑。它让我轻易地体验了数字排毒的美好，却也让我担心，一旦回到那个充满诱惑的虚拟世界，我是否还能控制自己？

但这至少证明了，夺回时间的主导权是可行的。我害怕虚度光阴，至少，我不能让今年的总结一片空白。 这只是开始，一个与时间、与自己和解的开始。

我还活着，并且无比真实

English Version

Am I even alive?

A heartbeat, then another, so undeniably real. But where do I truly exist? In 13 hours and 32 minutes, in 13 hours and 14 minutes… within the cold light of the screen, a ghost tethered to the digital realm.

Last week, I activated "Digital Wellbeing," an app whose name felt almost ironic. It meticulously tracked my intimate dance with my phone. I naively believed those graphs and digits, those warnings, could pry my fingers from this glowing rectangle.

Yet, aside from Wednesday, a day consumed by deadlines, I still averaged 9 hours and 50 minutes of screen time. Less than my usual 11 hours, yes, but still a crushing weight, a boulder on my chest.

The tragedy is, those near-10 hours yielded almost nothing. No thrill of accomplishment, no solace of emotional connection, no flicker of existential meaning. Time, like grains of sand, slipped through my fingers, leaving only a hollow echo.

I scrolled endlessly, clicked, refreshed, a moth trapped in the digital cocoon, mesmerized by the kaleidoscope of light, until exhaustion claimed me. My to-do list grew longer, time fragmented into shards, unread books piled high, and plans remained perpetually "in progress."

Perhaps it was this sense of powerlessness, or perhaps the simmering resentment finally boiled over, but I resolved to attempt a digital detox, a day of escape from this suffocating virtual world.

The Clarity of Disconnection

I enabled Do Not Disturb, silenced notifications, a ritualistic severing of digital ties. After brief farewells to some friends and the online world, I began my retreat.

The incessant buzz of group chats fell silent. WeChat became a tool for essential transactions only. Entertainment shifted from the endless scroll of social media to the quiet depths of Wikipedia and ebooks. In the newfound stillness, I studied Duolingo, organized my notes. The world, suddenly hushed, felt sharp and real.

For the first time, I experienced the deep focus of studying calculus. I could linger over a formula, lost in thought, without the nagging fear of interruption. Free from the bombardment of notifications, the relentless tide of chatter and trending topics, my world contained only the purity of numbers and the joy of contemplation.

I know, in this age, zero screen time is a fantasy. But looking at the healthy numbers and vibrant rings within Digital Wellbeing, I felt a long-lost lightness. This, I thought, is how time should feel. This is the rhythm life was meant to have.

Reflections

I lived in the present moment, anchored to tangible reality, not the swirling vortex of the internet. Yet, I'm acutely aware that this detached serenity is fragile. The moment I reconnect, the phantom of FOMO will return. Even in this moment, the thought strikes me: I yearn for the quiet comfort of everything being alright, yet I'm haunted by the bleakness of going unnoticed.

Taking the first step is always the hardest, but this forced beginning is a double-edged sword. It granted me a taste of digital freedom, yet I fear that returning to the seductive embrace of the virtual world will prove irresistible.

But this experiment has proven one thing: reclaiming ownership of my time is possible. I fear wasted time. At the very least, I can’t let this year end with an empty page. This is just the beginning, a reconciliation with time, with myself.

I exist, and it is profoundly real.