A moment of every day, I try to to access a deep memory. The goal is to help counteract what I fear will be the end of all of our brains, the Internet. Maybe not all of us, maybe just my generation of peers, or probably just me.

I wasn’t raised with an immediacy of information, I didn’t spend my terrible twos sliding my baby face across an iPad to make Elmo tell me what’s happening on Reddit every few minutes. I didn’t know at any moment how utterly horrible all of our governments are.

But now I do. So when I awaken from an Internet cocaine daze of information, literally not remembering anything that I read for the last five hours, I get scared, and so every day I try to access a deep memory.

And every day it strikes a chord of anxiety in me. In that moment, my brain knows what I’m trying to do, and it knows that it can no longer do it well, and it sends panic through my nerves.