Ididn't cry when I ended it with the last guy I was dating. I tossed him the Apple Watch that revealed his infidelity, walked away, and never looked back. But when I powered down my iPhone for the last time, my hands were practically shaking. It wasn't just a phone — it was the portal. The gateway to every app I'd already deleted months earlier, every algorithm I thought I'd escaped. I quit social media in January, but the device still had me. Powering it down felt like ending the most manipulative relationship I've ever had.

Even without the apps, the phone lingered — buzzing, glowing, whispering promises of connection. I started to realize: the addiction wasn't just to the platforms. It was to the phone itself.

Since 7th grade, my iPhone was my constant companion — the one that promise

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