Why I Finally Cancelled My Netflix Subscription After 10 Years

I remember the exact moment I fell in love with Netflix. It was 2014, and I was living in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn. My roommate and I had just cancelled our cable subscription — $120 a month for channels we never watched. Netflix was $7.99. We could watch "House of Cards" and "Orange Is the New Black" on demand, without commercials. It felt like the future.

Now June 2026. Netflix costs $22.99 per month for the premium plan (4K, four screens, no ads). That's a 187% increase from when I started. And that's not even the full story. They've cracked down on password sharing. They've cancelled shows I loved after one season. They've added ads to the basic plan. And the content library feels... thinner. A lot thinner.

Last Tuesday, I finally did it. I cancelled my subscription. After 12 years as a loyal customer, I'm done. Here's why.

The Price Just Keeps Going Up

Let's start with the obvious. Netflix has raised its prices seven times since 2014. The $7.99 plan I signed up for is now $15.49 (standard with ads). The no-ads plan is $17.99. Premium is $22.99. That's a lot of money for a streaming service, especially when you consider that the average American subscribes to three or four streaming services.

I understand inflation. I understand that content costs more to produce. But Netflix's revenue has been growing steadily — they reported $38 billion in revenue in 2025. They're not struggling. They're maximizing profit, which is their right. But as a customer, I have to ask: am I getting $276 per year of value? The answer, for me, is no.

Compare it to Disney+, which costs $13.99 per month for no ads (or $7.99 with ads) and includes Disney, Pixar, Marvel, Star Wars, and National Geographic. Or Apple TV+, which is $9.99 per month and has a smaller library but higher average quality. Netflix is the most expensive mainstream streaming service, and the gap is widening.

The Content Library Is Shrinking

Remember when Netflix had everything? It was the one place you could find any movie or show. Friends, The Office, Seinfeld, Disney movies, HBO classics — they were all there. That era is over. Every studio has launched its own streaming service. NBCUniversal has Peacock. Warner Bros. has Max. Disney has Disney+. Paramount has Paramount+. The licensing deals that made Netflix the ultimate destination have expired.

Netflix's original content strategy has been hit or miss. They've had massive hits — "Stranger Things," "The Crown," "Squid Game," "Wednesday" — but they've also cancelled a staggering number of shows after one or two seasons. "1899" (cancelled after season 1). "The OA" (cancelled after season 2, on a cliffhanger). "Mindhunter" (put on indefinite hiatus). "Cowboy Bebop" (cancelled after one season). "Archive 81" (cancelled after one season). The list goes on.

I've become reluctant to start a new Netflix series because I don't trust them to finish it. Why invest 10 hours in a show only to have it end on a cliffhanger with no resolution? It's frustrating, and it's a pattern that's driving viewers away.

The Password Sharing Crackdown Was the Final Straw

I know this is controversial. Some people think password sharing was always a loophole that Netflix was right to close. Others see it as a greedy move against loyal customers. I fall somewhere in the middle. I get it from a business perspective — Netflix wants to convert sharers into paying subscribers. But the execution was clumsy and punitive.

In May 2023, Netflix began rolling out its password sharing crackdown in the US. Subscribers were told that anyone outside their household would need to pay an extra $7.99 per month for an "extra member" slot. I shared my account with my sister, who lives in a different state. I was faced with a choice: pay extra, or kick her off. I didn't want to charge my sister, but I also didn't want to pay another $8 a month.

I chose to kick her off. She got her own account (the ad-supported plan for $6.99). We both lost the convenience of a shared queue and shared recommendations. It wasn't a huge deal, but it left a bad taste in my mouth.

Netflix reported a surge in new subscribers after the crackdown — over 10 million in the first quarter after the change. So it worked for them. But it felt like a betrayal of the goodwill they'd built over a decade.

The Quality of Originals Has Declined

Netflix produces an insane amount of content — over 1,000 original titles in 2024 alone. But when you produce that much, quality inevitably suffers. For every "Stranger Things," there are a dozen forgettable rom-coms, generic action movies, and mediocre reality shows.

I've noticed a trend: Netflix's original movies often feel like they were made by algorithm. They have the same pacing, the same cinematography, the same formulaic plots. I watched "The Gray Man" (2022) and "Heart of Stone" (2023), both big-budget action movies with A-list stars. Both were forgettable. They looked expensive but felt hollow.

Compare that to Apple TV+, which produces far fewer titles but maintains a higher bar. "Severance," "Ted Lasso," "Pachinko," "Slow Horses" — these are shows that feel crafted, not manufactured. Netflix used to have that reputation. It doesn't anymore.

The User Interface Is Getting Worse

This might seem minor, but Netflix's user interface has become a mess. The home screen is cluttered with rows of content that don't seem personalized to me. I see the same recommendations every time I open the app. The autoplay feature — where a trailer starts playing as soon as you hover over a title — is annoying. I don't want sound blasting from my TV while I'm trying to browse.

The search function is also poor. I often know exactly what I want to watch, but I have to type it in manually because the recommendations are irrelevant. And there's no way to filter by genre, year, or rating the way you can on something like Letterboxd or IMDb.

Netflix recently redesigned its app on some platforms, but the changes were minor. The fundamental issues remain.

What I'm Using Instead

I'm not anti-streaming. I still subscribe to a few services. Here's my current setup:

Apple TV+ ($9.99/month) — Best original content, hands down. I watch about two hours per week on average.

Disney+ ($13.99/month, no ads) — My family uses this for Marvel, Star Wars, and the kids. Good value.

Max ($15.99/month, no ads) — HBO originals, Warner Bros. movies, and a huge library of classic films. My go-to for movie nights.

Amazon Prime (included with Prime shipping) — The interface is clunky, but they have some good originals and a rotating selection of movies.

Total: $39.97 per month. That's less than two Netflix Premium plans. I watch more quality content now than I did when I had Netflix.

I also use my local library's free streaming service, Kanopy, which has a surprisingly good selection of indie films and documentaries. It's free with a library card. Highly recommended.

The Bigger Picture: Is Streaming Sustainable?

My cancellation is part of a larger trend. Subscription fatigue is real. A 2025 survey by Deloitte found that the average American household now subscribes to 4.5 streaming services, up from 3.2 in 2020. But the number of services they actually use regularly has stayed flat at around 2.3. People are signing up for free trials, bingeing a show, and cancelling. The churn rate is high.

Netflix knows this. That's why they're pushing into advertising, live events (like the upcoming NFL Christmas games), and gaming. They're trying to become a media conglomerate, not just a streaming service. But for me, the magic is gone. The days of paying $7.99 for unlimited, ad-free access to a massive library are over. The streaming wars have made things more expensive and more fragmented.

I don't hate Netflix. I had a good run. But the relationship has soured, and I'm not sure they care. They have over 280 million subscribers worldwide. They don't need me. And honestly, I don't need them.

Maybe I'll come back if they have another "Stranger Things"-level hit. Maybe they'll offer a cheaper, no-frills plan that brings back the old value proposition. But for now, I'm out. And I don't regret it.