This is also a story of language and ownership. The possessive “My” stakes a claim: anguish, humiliation, anger. It insists on perspective—on being the one wronged—and converts pain into narrative agency. Yet even this assertion is complicated by the title’s mechanical suffix: the personal is subsumed into product nomenclature, flattened into metadata for search and sale. The speaker’s identity resists appropriation even as the artifact appropriates the moment.