My eleven-year-old nephew said something during our last family lunch that caused me great concern. Between bites that he barely looked at, while his phone vibrated incessantly on the table, he said: "Everything is so boring." The irony of his statement couldn't be more evident. His room overflows with technology - a latest-generation tablet, a gaming console, a smartphone, and a TV connected to multiple streaming services. Yet there he was, sighing under the weight of an emptiness that no screen seemed able to fill. 

This family scene perfectly portrays the problem that defines an entire generation. Never in human history have we had so much access to entertainment, and yet boredom has become a silent epidemic consuming our youth with disturbing voracity. It's as if we had built an infinite amusement park, only to discover that each new attraction produces less excitement than the previous one.

Modern life has turned boredom into a public enemy, a state that must be fought with a constant avalanche of digital stimuli. Our teenagers browse TikTok for hours, jumping from video to video like nervous butterflies, searching for that next dopamine hit that makes them feel something, anything. The problem isn't technology itself, but that we've forgotten that boredom can be the prelude to something extraordinary.

This generation is growing up with an increasingly heavy digital backpack. Programming classes, online language courses, tutorials for everything imaginable, educational apps that promise to turn them into geniuses. Parents, anxious to give them an edge in a competitive world, fill every minute of their lives with structured activities. It's as if we've forgotten that creativity needs blank spaces to flourish.

The real danger isn't boredom itself, but our Pavlovian response of drowning it in superficial entertainment. When a teenager says they're bored, we usually throw them an electronic device like a lifeline. But perhaps we should do the opposite. Maybe we need to create safe spaces for boredom, moments where our youth can feel the void and learn to fill it with their own internal resources.

The great inventors, artists, and thinkers of history had something in common - moments of deep boredom that became catalysts for creativity. Marie Curie didn't discover radioactivity while watching YouTube videos. Leonardo da Vinci didn't design his flying machines while endlessly scrolling through Instagram. Boredom was their blank canvas, the necessary space for their minds to wander into unexplored territories.

The solution isn't to demonize technology or pretend we can go back to a simpler era. The challenge lies in finding a new balance, in teaching our youth that boredom isn't an enemy to be conquered, but a misunderstood mentor that can guide us toward surprising discoveries about ourselves.

We need to create a new culture of creative boredom. Spaces and moments where digital silence is the norm, not the exception. Where young people can experience the kind of productive tedium that leads to deep conversations, unexpected projects, personal discoveries. It's not about banning technology, but learning to use it as a tool, not an escape.

Boredom isn't the void we fear, but the necessary space where our minds can, finally, begin to flourish.