Picture this: the Supreme Court has just handed down its decision, and TikTok is gone.
Vanished.
Poof!
What are we supposed to do now? Actually… look at real life? Talk to other humans? Pick up a book?! Oh, the horror!
For years, TikTok has been our trusty companion, the beacon of light during long bathroom breaks, awkward family dinners, and sleepless nights.
Where else can you learn 37 ways to lose weight by belching, the intricacies of Gen Z slang, and discover that you’ve been walking wrong your whole life—all in under 30 seconds?
Without it, we might be forced to face the greatest challenge of all: our own thoughts.
The Five Stages of TikTok Grief
1. Denial
“This can’t be happening. No way. There must be a workaround, right? VPNs? Underground TikTok circles? Surely someone out there is uploading booty shots with suitable dances to Google Drive?”
2. Anger
“How dare they! TikTok was my therapist, my best friend, and my fake news coach all rolled into one. Who’s going to keep me updated on the new apocalypse aesthetic now?!”
3. Bargaining
“Okay, Supreme Court, hear me out. You can ban TikTok, but can we at least keep the cat videos? Or the oddly satisfying slime accounts? Just a few clips a day, I swear.”
4. Depression
Without TikTok, the world seems duller. Meals are eaten without a mukbang video. Mornings start without a ‘Day in the Life’ vlog. Even the dog looks disappointed I’m paying him attention now.
5. Acceptance
Eventually, we’ll move on. We’ll re-learn how to interact with the world around us. Maybe we’ll even pick up a hobby like knitting—or, God forbid, reading the news. But until then, it’s going to be a long, dark road filled with… eye contact.
Real Life: The Scariest TikTok Trend Yet
Let’s face it, real life is terrifying. There are no filters to blur out our pores or background music to make mundane tasks exciting.
Conversations with strangers are unpredictable and don’t come with a “Skip” button. Worse yet, real life doesn’t pause so we can rewatch the funny parts.
But maybe—just maybe—this TikTok-less existence could be an opportunity. Without the constant scroll, we might discover new things: sunsets, books, hobbies, or the terrifying realization that we don’t actually know how to dance.
Until then, we’ll always have the App Store. Here’s looking at you kid.
