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.