There was a time when texting “brb” felt like second nature.
Not just the phrase but typing it without even looking at the keypad of my Nokia 1100.
Yes, you read that right. No touchscreen. No backlight in the sunlight. Just those classic rubber buttons 2 for A, B, C… 7 for P, Q, R, S. And yet, we typed faster than we do on touchscreens today with pure muscle memory.
Back in college, that phone was more than just a phone. It was my music player, my calculator during surprise tests, my alarm clock, and sometimes even my torch during power cuts.
But the most magical thing? It was how we used to communicate.
There was something raw and intentional about texting back then.
Every word mattered.
Every message felt personal.
You didn’t just send 100 messages and hope one landed you waited, you thought, you felt.
And “brb” wasn’t just a convenience.
It was respect.
It meant, “Hey, I’m stepping away, but I’ll be back — because you matter.”
Today, I look at my iPhone and think it’s smarter, faster, shinier.
But nothing compares to the feel of typing “brb” without looking, in the middle of a lecture, while hiding the Nokia 1100 behind my notebook.
That small phone holds some of my biggest memories.
Sometimes I miss those days.
Not just the phone, or the simplicity.
But the intention behind everything.
You didn’t send 100 messages a day.
You sent 5 that mattered.
Life was slower.
But somehow, everything felt more connected.
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