The screen froze mid-swipe.

“Error 403: Service Unavailable.”

I stared at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen, waiting for TikTok to snap back to life. But it didn’t. The app just sat there, mocking me with its gray, lifeless error message.

“Mom!” I yelled, bursting into the kitchen. “It’s happening! They killed TikTok!”

Mom didn’t even look up from her coffee. “Good. You’ll finally have time for your homework.”

I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t just about TikTok, Mom. This is, like, the end of freedom.”

She smirked. “Pretty sure Jefferson didn’t write, ‘Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Dance Trends.’”

Back in my room, I flopped onto my bed, staring at my blank phone screen. The silence was deafening. Normally, this would be the time I’d watch someone bake a cake shaped like a frog or learn a new viral dance I’d never master. But now? Nothing.

My group chat was exploding.

Emma: It’s gone. For real.
Josh: VPNs, people. We’re not giving up.
Chloe: I’m literally crying. What do we do now?

What do we do now? Good question. For years, TikTok had been my world. It wasn’t just an app; it was where I learned new things, laughed at stupid jokes, and even figured out how to do eyeliner properly. It was where I existed.

I opened my camera app and started recording a video. Old habits die hard.

“Day one without TikTok,” I began, staring into the lens. “The world feels… quieter. Too quiet. I’m scared.”

I paused, trying to think of something funny to say, like the creators I’d followed for years. But all that came out was, “I miss it.”

I posted the video to Instagram Reels, feeling like a traitor. But the likes started rolling in, and it wasn’t the same, but it was… something.

Later that night, I sat on the porch, scrolling through Twitter for updates. People were furious, staging protests, making memes, mourning their For You Pages. It felt like we’d all lost a friend at the same time.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” my mom said, joining me outside.

“How is this a good thing?” I asked, exasperated.

She shrugged. “Sometimes losing something makes you realize what you actually value.”

I didn’t reply. Instead, I pulled out my phone and opened the camera again.

“Day two without TikTok,” I whispered into the lens. “The silence isn’t so bad. But I still miss the frog cakes.”

I smiled a little. Maybe I’d post this one, too. Somewhere, somehow. The internet always finds a way.