I left my iPhone with a razor, and my life is better

I didn’t cry when I broke up with the last guy I dated. I threw him an Apple Watch that revealed his infidelity, he left, and he has never looked back. But when I nodded at my iPhone for the last time, my hands were shaking. It wasn’t just a phone – it was a portal. The gate of all the applications I had removed months before, all the algorithms I thought I had escaped. I quit social media in January, but the phone is still with me. Powering it felt like ending the most treacherous relationship I’ve ever had.

Even without apps, the phone sleeps – buzzing, glowing, whispering promises to connect. I began to see: the addiction was not to the platforms. It was the phone itself.

Since the 7th grade, my iPhone was my constant companion – the one that promised instant communication but was sent to worry. When I got rid of social media, I thought I was going to cut the cord. But the phone itself kept whispering. It misleads me. Set me up with the whole update: This will make your life easier, The apple whispered, while tightening its grip on my daily life. The notices were deceptive. The absence of applications did not mean the absence of control. None of my rotten boys came close to my iPhone’s mental grip and left.

And I’m not alone. iPhones – and smartphones in general – stopped being tools a long time ago. They are the place we are born from. The average American spends more than five hours a day on their phone and checks approx a hundred times every day. All over the world, people spend about seven hours on screens every day, And for my generation, Gen Z, it’s closer to nine. That’s not bad; That depends.

Apple began as a company obsessed with freedom. Tools that promise to be illegal are reliable “Put Universal” And deliver us from the Tyranny of Deski. The original idea was mobility, intelligence and empowerment – a computer in your pocket for invisible living. Instead, they deliver features designed to keep us engaged, like push notifications, then all naturelike the app store, it’s built to keep us logged in. Services became more important, And the purpose was the users of the device.

I knew this years before I worked. But knowing and walking are different things.

It wasn’t until last month that I knew it was time. Over a two week span, I did two things that fundamentally changed me. First, I bound myself to 70-Foot Banner At Apple’s iPhone Launch, Candertino pointed out that Tim Cook is not doing enough to stop child rape videos from being stored and shared in iCloud. Second, I went with More than 150 people At Apple’s Flagship Store in New York City to claim responsibility: Choose people over profit.

Standing there, shouting for change, I saw the hypocrisy – and I was inclined to the product and protested. That was the high point. It wasn’t just about behavior. It was about identity. I spent years healing my life with a device that messed me up – shaping my habits, my attention span, yes my sense of self. And suddenly, in front of that cube on Fifth Avenue, I saw it very clearly: I wasn’t just on the phone. I was holding the most toxic relationship of my life.

So I parted with my iPhone and switched to a Motorola Razr.

I was not brave enough to cut the smartphone completely. Instead, I hope this shock to the system will help me build a healthy relationship with the device. Tech as a tool. The first few weeks felt like withdrawal – and they still do. I’m reaching for features that aren’t there, panicking at the loss of blue bubbles, and even feeling confused. That’s how deep the dependence is. Research returns: 58 percent of teenagers feel anxious without their phonesand 73 percent of adults experience phantom vibrations – false alarms that are dismissed.

I hate to admit it, but I fell in line with 90 percent of American college students say blue bubbles make Android users look cool – And even to associate with “few friends” and “low social class.” I worried people would think I was unapproachable – that switching to green was unreliable. My friends are right. The first group chat I joined with my new Razr, someone quickly threw in: “EW, who made this group chat rude?”

The razr is not perfect. It’s still a smartphone, and I’m sure I’ll run into some of the same problems my iPhone had. But this shift isn’t just about tech for me – it’s also about values. It’s about refusing to support the type of CEO who will share the CEO and the President by simply trying to wipe out people like me. It’s about the heartbreak watching a fortne 500 company led by an open man, someone I’ve seen myself, I turn my back on young people at high risk.

That is the failure of capitalism – even if you rise to the top, even if you hold unimaginable power, profit still succeeds in principle. Tim Chor may be the beacon of inclusion. Instead, he became another official who forgot the weight of his influence.

So, I left my iPhone. But more than that, I left the illusion that Apple was on my side. Parting with my phone was a personal change – and a rejection of a system that asks us to sell our dignity for convenience.

I didn’t just leave the device. I went through the most toxic relationship of my life. And honestly? I have never felt lighter.

This document reflects the author’s opinion.

Lennon Torres is a public voice for the prevention of child sexual abuse with a completed project. He is an LGBTQ + Advocate who grew up in the public eye, gaining national recognition as a young Dancer in television shows. With a deep love for storytelling, advocacy, and politics, Lennon now works to share his experience with others as he does his professional work on child safety online at Heat step. The opinions expressed in this section are those of Lennon Torres as a person and not of the organizations he is a part of. Lennon’s Susack: