I got an Apple Watch and I already hate myself (A Novel)

Photo by Mitchell Hollander on Unsplash

Up until a few weeks ago, I had never worried about my blood oxygen level.

I also never cared about how long I spent standing up during the day. I didn’t get a haptic wrist vibration every time my phone got a notification. Life was simpler. Easier. But now the Apple-verse has taken full control of my life.

A singular cellular phone call is complete chaos for me now.

My fear of talking on the phone has been exacerbated by the fact that I can now make calls with my wrist. If this is how I feel with an extra bit of tech on my arm, I cannot imagine the day the Microsoft HoloLens’ or Magic Leap’s of the world are beginning to be used by everyday humans.

But I’ll never throw any of it away. I’ll never live without it. It’s too late. Now that I can be absolutely positive that my heart is beating consistently throughout the day, I’ll never go back. I love my Apple Watch. I love my blood oxygen. And I love my new Doctor (who is actually my Apple Watch).

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