Terms and Conditions

Thank you for choosing Emotional Recovery the world’s least user-friendly process. 

By continuing, you agree to the following terms:

1. You acknowledge that closure will take longer than promised.
2. Refunds for wasted feelings are not available.
3. Side effects may include déjà vu, insomnia, and replying to old texts in your head.

I scrolled through the agreement anyway, like everyone does — eyes glazed, heart on autopilot — and clicked “I Agree.”

Immediately received an email:

“Congratulations! Your healing journey has begun. Please allow 6–8 business months for results.”

Six months later, I got a reminder:

“Your subscription to sadness is about to renew automatically.”

Apparently, you have to cancel it manually.

There’s no button for that. Just a long list of “Are you sure?” pop-ups in human form.

Clause 4.1 states:

“Memories may resurface without prior notice, especially during emotional downtime, rain, or 2 a.m.”

Clause 5.3 adds:

“You must not stalk, idealise, or mentally rewrite the ending more than thrice per week.”

I violated both.

Twice before breakfast.

At one point I tried contacting customer care.

They said, “Have you tried journaling?”

I said, “Yes. The pages ghosted me too.”

They marked the ticket ‘Resolved’ and hung up.

Sometimes I wonder who writes these rules.

Who decided healing should be linear, grief should be quiet, and missing someone should come with deadlines?

Maybe it’s the same team that invented motivational quotes for coffee mugs.

Because honestly, nothing says I’m fine like drinking from a cup that says Let it go while you’re still clutching your phone.

Anyway, I’ve accepted the terms now.

I even got the premium plan — includes occasional peace and 15 GB of emotional storage.

Still, the app crashes every time their name is mentioned.

But it’s fine.

At least now I read the fine print carefully.

Especially the last line:

“By clicking ‘I Agree,’ you understand that closure is not guaranteed — only rebranding.”