I had to. The feels had become too strong, too numerous to
silently endure any further.
I made the decision to delete my Facebook account when I
became painfully self-aware that my obsession over past pictures, number of
likes, and first posts had grown into a colossal time suck from which there was
seemingly no escape. “Room for one more”
were the silent cries of my virtual 500+ “friends”. I found myself forgetting
things that didn’t come in the form of a reminder or a pithy meme in my uncontrollable
and ever-changing feed.
The first question I got: So… how does it feel?
Really? Like I had just accomplished a difficult, near
impossible task. As if I shed 100lbs, or I walked on the moon, or cracked the
KFC 11 herbs and spices recipe.
How does it feel? Like…I clicked two links and
saved data to a flash drive? Maybe I didn’t understand the question.
How does it feel? Like… ordering paper from Staples. No? How about.. It
feels sort of soft and pudgy. Like a hot dog.
Ok, I definitely didn’t understand the question.
I had become an addict. Like most addicts, it had taken an agonizingly
long period of time to come to the realization that my drug was taking me away
from meaningful peace and human interaction. Familiarity seemed foreign and
something had to be done. Something anti-social media and completely socially
minded. Something bold and decisive and sweeping. An action worthy of a Clavell
novel. Something potentially painful, but in that good way.
So I downloaded a zip file of all my data onto a flash
drive, went through the 3-Step
Process to delete my account, and hit the button.
So how did it feel?
The truth is, it felt empty. I thought there would be more
fanfare. A sub-set chorale of pomp and circumstance playing in the background
as I triumphantly went about a prolific and industrious day. But, instead, all
that remained was my Spotify switching to another viral hit while I internally
admonished myself for looking at my phone screen every three minutes afterward.
Perhaps it’s that expectation of unrealistic drama that led me to need to
unplug in the first place.
Alas, the social media software giant will not go quietly
into that good night. They sent me a communication immediately confirming my
choice and letting me know that I had 14 days to change my mind. You still have
a chance to come back, they kindly taunted me. Reverse your obviously poor
decision and rejoin the masses, they implied with their thinly-veiled,
informational email. You still have time to save yourself from disaster.
I will not yield. I will not break or bend. Just as I resist
the seemingly soft warm glow of religious fanaticism, so too will I resist the
pretty blue Kool-Aid from the gilded cup of the Zuckerberg.
I feel like I should have a sticker on my shirt. Be nice to
me.. I unplugged today.
