I swear, every time my phone updates, a tiny piece of my soul leaves my body. Like, why did my alarm sound change without consent? Why do my apps suddenly look like they went through an identity crisis? I didn’t ask for this rebrand. I was fine. We were fine.
There’s something deeply offensive about being forced into an update when you’re just trying to scroll in peace. One minute I’m replying to texts, the next my phone is like, “Surprise! Nothing works the same and also your battery hates you now.” Chic. Très chic.
I love aesthetics. I love flow. I love when things feel intuitive and pretty and effortless. And yet, after every update, I’m aggressively Googling how to turn features off like I’m in a toxic relationship I refuse to leave, except honestly, this time, I might. This might be my last iPhone. I’m saying it out loud. I feel free. I feel unhinged. I feel powerful.
Because why does my phone think it knows me better than I know myself? I didn’t need smarter notifications. I needed stability. I needed loyalty. I needed my camera not to suddenly sharpen my face into a completely different person at 8 a.m.
Maybe I’m dramatic. Actually, I’m just passionate. Technology is supposed to make life easier, not gaslight me into thinking I changed the settings when I absolutely did not. So yeah. If you see me with a different phone soon, just know it wasn’t impulsive. It was self-care. And I know all technology updates but the apple updates piss me off.
