Fifteen minutes a day. That’s it. After that time elapses — whether it’s all at once or in smaller, two minute segments — a gray hourglass fills up my screen and white sand trickles through. No more scrolling for today.
Usually, at this point, I would turn off my phone. Nevertheless, I haven’t been perfect about upholding my daily Instagram limit. There are times where my thumb hovers over the “Fifteen more minutes” button, while I tell myself, “a few more minutes of relaxation can’t hurt.” None of us are well-oiled machines, and downtime is necessary. Descending into the infinite rabbit hole of Reels provides the break I crave after a long Friday lab section or an exam — whether it’s smiling at a funny meme, relishing the nostalgia of an old movie soundtrack or feeling touched by the occasional motivational video.
Instagram hasn’t been a part of my life for that long. I only downloaded it toward the tail end of my senior year in high school, with the goal of staying up to date with campus life at Hopkins and connecting with fellow incoming students. However, I soon found myself falling into the trap of scrolling: laughing at a video of a golden retriever learning tricks from his caretaker or a string of skits satirizing the ups and downs of college life that either my friends liked or the algorithm curated for my feed. In those moments, it feels like I’m a part of something bigger than myself as I forward the same video to a friend or save it to a personal collection. Yet the Reels I scroll through blend together, becoming a blur and fading from memory a few hours later.
I’ve told myself that swiping through Reels can provide inspiration for my own work, especially in the realm of creative writing and making short videos. This is true to an extent, though I’ve found myself navigating a web of content put out by creators documenting early adulthood — losing bits of my voice there as I gravitate toward the posts that have attracted the most views and likes (after all, doesn’t more engagement equate to “better” content — whatever better means?).
Plowing through short-form videos became the easier, more accessible choice when it comes to truly feeling recharged. Even though I don’t open Instagram with the intent of doomscrolling, the fast-paced content provides a speedy dopamine rush, sometimes edging out meaningful forms of enjoyment. Prior to using Instagram, I found relaxation in turning the pages of a suspenseful novel — letting the words on the page morph into scenes carved out by my mind or in doodling on scraps of paper, letting my hand glide across the smooth page.
Or I would read an article or watch a long-form, and therefore more memorable, video on YouTube, either for pure entertainment, education or a combination of the two. These moments provided the space to get lost in a story or exercise my creativity, allowing for a genuine escape from my usual, fast-paced routines. I still find joy from all this, but finding something worth savoring has become more difficult than opening Instagram to a swarm of Reels, where one is guaranteed to resonate, even if just for a few seconds.
Ultimately, setting the Instagram time limit has helped me be more intentional with my time, returning to the simplicities embedded in the world around me. My time spent curled up in my chair with a good article or outside — strolling around campus and feeling the breeze tickle my skin — feels more refreshing. I’ve realized that scanning through people’s Instagram stories or posts doesn’t matter that much. While contributing to the flurries of likes and comments provided a temporary illusion of closeness, face-to-face conversations and the sound of laughter in real life remain etched in my mind for a longer time.
Each time the hourglass appears on my screen, I’m faced with a decision: to continue scrolling or slip my phone into my back pocket. These split seconds of sand falling to the bottom of the hourglass often provide just enough time for me to lift my thumb from the screen, and instead of succumbing to a small, but tempting craving, I become better at choosing myself.
Sareena Naganand is a sophomore from Piscataway, New Jersey majoring in Biomedical Engineering. Her column, “The Daily Chai,“ is about finding happiness in simple, insignificant moments: the kind that makes us smile, wrapping around us like the warmth that comes from drinking a cup of tea.
