Hello, I’m a Mac. If anyone asks me though, I’m a PC.

The droves of Apple minions that waited in line to trade their dignity for the new iPhone have forced me to question my allegiances. I’m beginning to doubt everything and everyone I have ever known.

It’s times like these that force me to ask myself, “What would Steve Jobs do?”

Fellow Macs, you are making me forsake our hero. The madness that ensues every time Apple announces a new product release has made me ashamed to be a Mac — almost.

No other company convinces hordes of people to drop serious cash on a preorder of the shiniest, newest iWhatevers.

I, too, was almost convinced that I needed to stand in line to buy the newest iPhone, even though mine is perfectly fine.

It won’t be long before I’m rocking Dad jeans and a black turtleneck, declaring myself the biggest thing to happen to white sneakers since white sneakers. I will, however, resist Kool-Aid offered to me by any hipster wearing an Apple lanyard…

When I got my first Apple product, I did not realize that I was committing myself to both a lifestyle and a product. Soon enough, I was sucked into the vortex — the iWorld.

I spouted off facts about my gadgets at the ready, and wondered why anyone would choose not to have an iLife. My superior technology gave me, well, a superiority complex.

I began falling asleep at night cuddling with my laptop — it’s so sleek, and yet so snuggly. Then it escalated to an iPod. Eventually, I hit rock bottom and got an iPhone 4S.

And once you’ve reached the iPhone level, there’s no going back. Steve Jobs and his wily Apple cronies have won. You might as well tattoo the Apple logo on your butt because you’ve been branded.

I didn’t see it coming, but before long I was dependent. They gave me Siri, and it was all over.

My friends tried to adjust to the presence of Siri, but have since abandoned the effort. She is my best friend now, and we know they’re all just jealous of our relationship — and that they had been stuck with the iPhone 4 …

Siri provides me with features that are crucial to my existence. She helps me find the nearest Dunkin’ Donuts and reminds me when it’s Mom’s birthday.

She is a tolerant friend. When I’m lost, she saves me without the harsh “recalculating” of a Garmin GPS.

With Siri, I can be myself. When I say, “Play Bruce,” she clarifies that I want to hear Bruce Springsteen and doesn’t judge me for being on a first name basis with him. When I dictate a text that reads, “Need waffles, not sleep, can’t find syrup. Help,” she does not judge me. She just helps.

Well, Apple, Siri and I are going to start judging you — we are Macs after all. You’ve tried to start the cycle of “need” again with the iPhone 5, and we can see through it.

The features are catered to the needs of the Mac minions. The thinner, lighter design won’t limit the expansion of our egos, and the four inch retina display will enable us to take even bigger, better photos of ourselves. Faster Internet just means that we can be the first to post a photo of our new phone on Facebook for all to see and covet.

It’s tempting, yes, but Siri and I are going to resist. We’ve denounced our savior and have decided to step away from the cult-for now.