Knowing you can uninstall an app and not die. Disconnecting a notification and finding silence as an ally. Turning off screens an hour a day—not as punishment, but as a reward. Telling your email: “Respect me or I ignore you.” Learning to truly read a contract: dot by dot, word by word. Rejecting convenience when it becomes captivity: stand up, pick up a book, smell its pages. Giving up the digital “shortcut” at least once a week: use a paper map, call instead of chat, hand-write a postcard. Looking beyond the feed: meet a real person, without emojis. Organizing in small, real groups: gather in the square, debate, raise your voice without hashtags. Valuing mistakes: overturning the myth of efficiency, celebrating creative disorder. Setting clear limits on screen time: office hours even for your messengers. Teaching the young not to be prey to the algorithm: show them how to create, not just consume. Building local sharing communities: books, tools, skills. Pressuring policymakers for laws that defend privacy as an inalienable right. Cultivating wonder unfiltered: watch clouds, listen to a child speak, learn a song by heart. Writing one offline diary line every morning, to remember who you were before logging in. Reclaiming freedom means rediscovering boredom and turning it into opportunity. It’s starting to make mistakes without fear, asking without awaiting an automatic reply, breathing deeply not because an app says so but because you feel it inside. Thus, step by step—or update by update—we will bring life’s wonderful chaos back out of the terms and conditions. And, in the end, we won’t need any symbolic logout. Because freedom will already be alight within us.