Dear Juice,

A breakup letter to the word “Juice.”

I’m sorry I’m doing this over a letter, but it’s not like I can just hit you up on WhatsApp or see you in a Starbucks. You’re an abstract concept, and I’m a human. And see, this is the real reason why our relationship is doomed. That’s just what you are, abstract. You’re not real, and I need something more concrete in my life right now.

We’ve had some good times, and at some point, I genuinely thought I loved you and believed you felt the same way. But now I see you never really loved me. You’re just an ephemeral idea that sometimes makes sense, but more often than not, you only create more confusion and wrong expectations.

Our love story began when I was a young, wide-eyed designer, impressed with all the cute jelly buttons and bouncy animations from any King or Supercell game. I remember thinking I wanted more of that in my life, and I let you in. I have to admit I abused you. I threw you around whenever I tried to explain something but couldn’t find the right words. And everyone was doing the same, so we just kept going. But it’s unsustainable.

I realised that when I called your name, I was actually thinking of better affordances, micro-interactions, animated transitions, aesthetic values, but I just said… Juice. Because it felt right. And I think the hardest part is having to hear from everyone else how great we are together. They insist on calling you by name, reminding me of your existence. Honestly, many of my friends think breaking up with you is a mistake. But they don’t know you as well as I do. And they keep saying this:

I know you don’t like it when I say it, but honestly, this just needs to be more… Juicy.

It sends chills down my spine, just hearing that. You see, Juice, they think they know what you are, and they’re falling into the same trap I fell so many times in the past: creating an ideal version of you in their heads, a reality that can’t possibly be achieved in real life. And then I have to relive our relationship all over again and go through the agonising pain of explaining it, and saying “Yeah… That’s just not how this works…”

I’m going through a Juiceless detox now, and I’m trying to use the right words when describing UI behaviours and art direction. We had fun together, Juice, but it’s time to move on. I’ll be more objective when talking about UX and visual design, and I’ll have to ask my friends and colleagues to do the same. It’s re-education, but it’ll pay off, and result in better communication and fewer mistakes due to different expectations.

But I know I’ll have my moments of weakness, as will everyone else, and I’ll come back to you now and then; because it’s comfortable, it’s effortless, it’s familiar. I’ll call you late at night when I’m tired and alone, and specifying how a button looks and behaves feels just too tricky. But it’s wrong, you’re limited, and you can’t give me everything I need. So I think it’s for the better, if we could just be friends.

With love, thanks for the memories.

Lissa.