Writing under the assumption and/or hope that no one is reading this

If you are, I hope you’re a good one.

Last week I found this great Gizmodo post called The Creepiest Things You Can Do on Facebook and it was such a treat. I appreciated that the author was so seriously unserious and I took the article as a how-to instructional manual. GREAT FUN! Things I did:

• Put up pictures of my face (while, say, pulling on my lips, putting my fist in my mouth) on people’s walls with no comment
• Left comments on people’s births, graduations, etc., often graphic re: their mother’s junk
• Tagged myself in couple photos
• Requested people’s relationship statii, phone numbers, and addresses (which is really the creepiest, and the most entertaining)

It really was all just too amusing. Today, however, Facebook creeped back at me, because I woke up and it nailed me in the face with something that I supremely didn’t want to see. So I quit Facebook, because that’s the only way.

Social media truly giveth and taketh awayed

It saddens me how I keep thinking of reasons why I might need to get back on Facebook. I suppose I’m writing this as (a) journalling but also (b) as a means of accountability for myself to not hop back on in two days. Or two hours.

When Facebook asked “Why are you leaving?” I selected Other and typed “The person who emotionally annihilated me just won’t go away, so now I have to”

They asked

Things do get better, a lot better, over time, but the feeling of wanting everything to just stop doesn’t dwindle. I have come so far, and yet this thing is still there, about 1/88 of what it used to be, but still there. I keep feeling as though since I have indeed come so far, it should just go away now.

The first step is not caring, or not caring as much, and I’ve done really well on that one. The second step, the harder step, is not caring if someone else cares.

work in progress