Dear Facebook: It's Not You, It's Me
Facebook, we're breaking up.
It's not your fault, really. It's mine. I'd sit around at night, staring at you, waiting for things to happen. I'd search out posts I knew would make me sad. I'd look at photos of peoples' travels and babies and fun nights out while I sat around in my pajamas despising myself -- yet I still couldn't look away. I wasted hours of my life that I'll never get back comparing myself to the strategically created realities of 334 people who weren't really the friends you said they were while I let my actual friendships falter.
And don't get me started on the news, Facebook. I'm either a horrible "libtard" to half of my friends, or not doing enough and "part of the problem" to the other half. The stress of existing in your universe made my life a misery
So we're breaking up. Well, more accurately, we're taking a break. I'm not Catholic -- I don't even go to church anymore -- but I'm using Lent as an experiment. Instead of wasting my time with you, I'm going to actually write. At least 40 posts during Lent. (So about six a week, give or take.) My rule for myself is that the posts don't all need to be well-planned future Pulitzer winners, or components of my debut novel. But I have to write something. Maybe what I'd have posted on you, Facebook. Observations about my day. How I just saw a photo of Email Dumper for the first time in a year and he looks like "a disaster in sneakers," per my sister. (I went with washed up 80s hairband guitarist. I think we're both right.)
This is a big challenge, but I'm tired of the way I'm wasting my time and my life. Writers write. So it's time to get started.
One down, 39 more to go.
PS: I'm with Twitter now. I hope you understand.
It's not your fault, really. It's mine. I'd sit around at night, staring at you, waiting for things to happen. I'd search out posts I knew would make me sad. I'd look at photos of peoples' travels and babies and fun nights out while I sat around in my pajamas despising myself -- yet I still couldn't look away. I wasted hours of my life that I'll never get back comparing myself to the strategically created realities of 334 people who weren't really the friends you said they were while I let my actual friendships falter.
And don't get me started on the news, Facebook. I'm either a horrible "libtard" to half of my friends, or not doing enough and "part of the problem" to the other half. The stress of existing in your universe made my life a misery
So we're breaking up. Well, more accurately, we're taking a break. I'm not Catholic -- I don't even go to church anymore -- but I'm using Lent as an experiment. Instead of wasting my time with you, I'm going to actually write. At least 40 posts during Lent. (So about six a week, give or take.) My rule for myself is that the posts don't all need to be well-planned future Pulitzer winners, or components of my debut novel. But I have to write something. Maybe what I'd have posted on you, Facebook. Observations about my day. How I just saw a photo of Email Dumper for the first time in a year and he looks like "a disaster in sneakers," per my sister. (I went with washed up 80s hairband guitarist. I think we're both right.)
This is a big challenge, but I'm tired of the way I'm wasting my time and my life. Writers write. So it's time to get started.
One down, 39 more to go.
PS: I'm with Twitter now. I hope you understand.
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