Every few months, I grab my phone with a fire in my gut. It’s time to take control, to clear out the junk piling up in my digital life. Old apps I haven’t opened since the Obama administration, screenshots of random crap I don’t even remember saving, and yeah, the contact list—the one place I always tell myself I’m going to gut like a fish. Trim the fat, cut the dead weight, move forward like a man on a mission. But every single time, I hit the same wall. I scroll through the names, and my finger hovers over the delete button, frozen.
These aren’t just contacts. They’re not random digits tied to faceless numbers. They’re the ghosts of the men I used to call brothers, the wingmen who had my back, the women who lit up my world for a season, and the ones who slipped away without so much as a goodbye. Some faded out slowly, like a campfire burning down to embers. Others? They vanished like they were never there, leaving a hole that still stings when I let my mind wander too long.
This isn’t about weakness. It’s about the weight of those connections, the ones that shaped who I am, even if they’re just memories now. So, let’s talk about why those names are still in my phone, why I can’t hit delete, and why maybe—just maybe—you shouldn’t either.
The Ritual of the Cleanup
I’m not a hoarder. I don’t cling to useless stuff. My place is clean, my desk is organized, and I don’t keep junk lying around. But my phone? That’s a different story. Every few months, I get this urge to reset, to streamline. I delete old voicemails, clear out blurry photos, and uninstall apps I downloaded for no reason. It feels good, like shedding dead skin. But when I get to the contact list, it’s like stepping into a minefield.
