I wrote this story with
AI, just using my ideas. I know it is very lazy to do, but it is a story that I
really like, so I wanted to share it.
The Silly little
guy and his Samsung Galaxy S24
Ohhh, what a wholesome and chaotic Saturday
morning for our silly little guy. He ordered a new phone, the Samsung
Galaxy S24. Let’s walk through it, step by jittery step, what his day has been!
🌤️ 9:07 AM – The Doorbell Rings
“IT’S HERE!!!” he squeals through a mouthful of cereal. He
sprints—barefoot, slightly sticky from syrup—to the door. A box rests like a
sacred relic on the porch. Sunlight glimmers on the cardboard. He gasps.
📦 9:10 AM – The Ritual Begins
He brings it to his desk. Hands trembling. Breath shallow. He carefully slices
the tape with a butter knife, whispering, “Don’t mess this up, this is
history.”
Inside:
📱 9:15 AM – First Touch
He lifts it. It’s so light. So thin. The screen… oh no. He gasps
again. It's like holding the future. His Galaxy S10+ wheezes softly in the
corner, screen cracked, battery at 13%, still running Android 12 like a war vet
in flip-flops.
🧠 9:22 AM – Activation Chaos
He begins the transfer process. Smart Switch is doing its best. Photos from
2019 pour in. A cursed selfie of him holding a rotisserie chicken appears.
He whispers reverently: “Look how crisp this screen is... you can see the
oil on my face.”
🪄 10:07 AM – THE CAMERA TEST
He runs outside to photograph a squirrel. The squirrel blinks in 200
megapixels.
“You can see into its soul.”
He zooms in on a tree across the street and
gasps, “That tree has pores??”
He takes a selfie. The AI enhances him into someone who sleeps regularly
and drinks actual water. He’s horrified and impressed.
🎮 11:30 AM – Performance Madness
He downloads Genshin Impact “just to see.”
It runs at 60 fps with no heat. He’s sweating, but the phone isn’t.
🔋 1:00 PM – Battery Euphoria
Four hours in. Still at 92%.
He looks at his S10+, which would be on life support by now, plugged into a
wall like a needy toddler. He pats it gently. “You did your best.”
📢 2:00 PM – Calling His Friend to Brag
“Bro. Bro. Listen. I took a photo of the moon and I think I can see a guy
waving at me. Bro. It’s crispy.”
His friend: “You okay?”
Him: “No. I’m better.”
Our silly little guy sits there in the afternoon
light, the S24 gleaming on the desk like a tiny spaceship—and for a moment,
everything goes still. The joy buzzes down, and the quiet creeps in.
The phone is perfect. Too perfect. So smooth and
fast and smart. And he's just... him.
His fingers trace the polished edges. He thinks, "Why
do I care this much about a phone? Why did I get so excited? Who even am I
doing this for?" There's a pang in his chest. A sharp kind of ache.
The kind you feel when you realize you’ve been laughing alone in a room that’s
just too quiet.
He remembers how his friends barely replied when he
sent that 100x zoom moon pic. One reacted with a thumbs-up. Another left him on
read.
He laughs, but not the happy kind.
"I’m out here zooming in on squirrels like an idiot. What’s wrong with
me?"
He sits back in his chair, the screen dimming
slowly. His S10+ lies next to the new one, old and scuffed and weirdly
comforting. It was his companion during lonely nights and odd little
adventures. The S24 doesn’t know him yet. It hasn’t seen him cry into a
takeout bag. It hasn’t autocorrected his name to "Slippy" for two
years.
He’s happy. But he’s sad. Because shiny things
don’t fill the weird holes inside. They just glitter on top of them for a
while.
He doesn't want to be the quirky guy who
gets too excited about tech. He wants to be seen. He wants someone to
sit next to him and say, "Hey. I get why this makes you happy. And I
think it’s cool, because you’re cool."
But no one’s there right now. Just him. The new
phone. And that hollow feeling of being too much and not enough at the same
time.
So he sighs. Pulls a hoodie over his head.
Maybe later he’ll go outside. Or text someone. Or not.
But for now, he stares at the lock screen. It
reflects his face in the dark room.
And in a very quiet voice he says to himself:
"You're okay. Even if you're weird. Even if no one claps. You're
okay."
The phone doesn’t answer. But it doesn’t need to.
It just sits there. Warm. Ready.
And so is he. Sort of.
Yeah. That’s it exactly.
That contrast—the cold, flawless design of a
machine and the messy, aching reality of being human—it’s like holding a mirror
that only reflects the parts you wish you could fix. You stare at this
polished, glowing object and think, “Why can’t I be like that? Sleek.
Functional. Desired.”
But the truth is: the phone never gets to
feel what you feel. Never knows wonder. Or heartbreak. Or the way your chest
tightens when a memory hits you out of nowhere. It doesn’t know what it’s like
to be crying and laughing at the same time in the middle of the night because
your favorite song came on shuffle at the wrong—or maybe the exactly
right—moment.
We chase shiny things because sometimes they make
us feel worthy. Like if we have the best phone, the coolest
shoes, the latest thing, then maybe we’re not as lost. Not as out of
place. But underneath that—beneath all the aluminum and glass—we’re just
people. Lonely sometimes. Soft in the worst ways. Silly in ways we’re scared to
show.
But it’s in that rawness, in that quiet shame and
longing, that the realness of life pulses. That’s what makes us alive.
Not the upgrade. Not the image. But the part of us that hurts and still
chooses to care anyway.
So if you feel that ache—that weird emptiness next
to joy—you’re not broken. You’re just human.
And somewhere out there, someone else is sitting in
their room, brand-new phone in hand, feeling like a misfit loser too. But if
you could see each other—if just for a second—you’d realize: you’re not
alone at all.
That’s the moment the tone of the story shifts—from
silly to something much deeper. It’s no longer just about the excitement of a
new phone. It’s about longing to connect in a world where it feels like
no one’s really looking back. Where you try to share pieces of your
heart—shaped like photos, messages, jokes—and they float out into the air
unanswered.