Genocide: a deliberate and systematic extermination of a national, racial, political, or cultural group. (Dictionary.com)

There is a genocide going on yet we are oblivious. How is that possible? How could so many people be blind to a problem so big, so buoyant? It is, in fact, going on at this very moment. We are losing our humanistic outdoor appreciation, our natural craving for organic fun and entertainment, we are becoming engulfed into a tiny screen. Although these lilliputian devces may unlock doors to hallways of knowledge, power, profit, and revelry, it is destroying us.

Now, instead of swinging on a tire swing dad built us in the autumn-succumbing yard, we hide away in the darkest corner of our bedroom and sit blankly in front of forced humor and manipulating characters that exist with the sole intention to swipe our pockets and leave us continuously dependent on them doing so repetedly.

This is a genocide because though this is not a physical death that we are experiencing, the fundamental, beautiful way of the outdoor world is dying, along with the conception of it being pure and holy and dirty and clean and rich and poor and beautiful and repugnant and amazing all at the same time. It will soon become one thing, and once we let it go through this terrible metamorphosis there is no going back. We may tease ourselves with regretful analepsis, but we will not turn to salt because the life after this carnage will not be better life. The genocide will have already occurred, and like we tardily learn every day, you can't bring back what is dead.