The Breakup
I loved him, and oh boy, did he love me back. Guess I loved him more. I was like a cat glued to a sunny window, craving his attention and the warmth of his presence. Seriously, I couldn’t sleep without cuddling him; my idea of a perfect night was him and the popcorn. That’s all I wanted.
But as time went on, it felt like I was living in a cozy little prison. If he wasn’t around, I felt paralyzed. Life suddenly had the vibrancy of a beige wall. I stopped getting ready for myself and only got ready for him, like a contestant on a weird reality show. Makeup? Only if it was for him. A trip to the salon? Only if he came to check my haircut.
It was like I’d become a walking, talking, love-struck zombie, and I was starting to loathe this new me. My heart longed for independence, while my mind was caught in a tug-of-war- between being single and staying in the relationship.
Finally, the moment of truth arrived. I had to break the news. With all the grace of a clumsy giraffe, I declared, “I want a breakup!”
He responded with tears that started softly, like a gentle rain, and escalated to a full-on monsoon. “But… but… we were a team!” he cried. But I was relentless. It was time to channel my inner superhero and escape this love trap.
Goodbye, Instagram! See you later, texting! Farewell, Facebook! Bye-bye, WhatsApp! Au revoir, Zepto! Later, TikTok! Adios, Snapchat! Until next time, Zomato, Parting Myntra!
It felt like I had finally broken the shackles of my addiction.
The breakup with my partner in crime—my phone—was bitter, but the sense of liberation was exhilarating. I felt like I had emerged from a cocoon, a beautiful butterfly ready to take on the world.
And so, I strutted into my new life, a little shaky but hopeful, ready to rediscover myself. I might not know where I’m going, but I know I won’t have my bitter half—my phone—along for the ride.