I want to say “ Goodbye Facebook ” so badly it makes my cerebral cortex burn.
After the last round of emotional turmoil surrounding status updates on my personal Facebook account, I wanted so-so-so badly to just delete it. I’ve been done with the people on Facebook for a really long time now, and the latest drama was merely the icing on my “I can’t stand Republicans” cupcake.
So then why don’t I just DO IT already? One simple reason — my hubz won’t let me. See, in addition to my personal account, I also have a Facebook page associated with my bloggy-blog. To have a PAGE, you have to have a personal account. So there it is. I’m stuck with it. I hate it, but my hubz has sound reasoning.
But wait — why would I want to get rid of my personal Facebook account anyway? That’s just silly, right?
Saying “ Goodbye Facebook ” is so hipster.
I can hear a few of you out there going, “Oh, Andi-Roo — are you one of those elitist hipsters who thinks it will make you a hoopy frood to quit the whole online update game?” And then you arch your eyebrows at me, all cocky ‘n’ shit, because you think you know me.
Guess what, asshole*? You’re wrong.
[[[*Note: I’m not calling Linda Sharps an asshole. Let us be very clear here: Linda Sharps is NOT an asshole. Or, if she is one, I know nothing about it. As far as I’m concerned, Linda Sharps is pretty god damn awesome. I’m calling YOU an asshole… YOU, the one making that face at me, thinking you have me pegged as a hipster.]]]
I’m so totally NOT a hipster.
For one thing, I’d have to give a shit about Joneses* and society and shoes and expensive coffee drinks. The only thing I care about in that mix is avoiding all of it. The Joneses* are motherfuckers, society is full of spoiled ass-hats, I only own one pair of sneaks, and my coffee is not from Starbucks. I’m fat and sloppy and hate hanging out with people. I’m not “above” anyone. I’m not “better than” anyone. I just want to be left alone. That totally makes me the opposite of elitist. I think.
[[[*Note: I do hope you realize I’m referring to generic, hypothetical Joneses and not specific ones. As in, the keeping up with.]]]
Whatever. I’m pretty sure I’m NOT a hipster. Don’t they wear scarves and high heels with jeans? And aren’t they financially stable? Oh — and I’m pretty sure they like playdates for their kids. NOT IT!
So then NO, asshole. I’m not making some hipster statement. I wanted out of Facebook because people I love are hurting me. I wanted out of Facebook because it made me cry and filled me with rage and added to my hatred of humans. I wanted out of Facebook because I couldn’t stand dealing with hypocrites, liars, and meanie-pantses.
Wanting to avoid sharp objects is not the same thing as “making a statement about avoiding sharp objects”. Wanting to avoid sharp objects can be equated to making smart choices about which dangerous things you will allow the potential to cut you open.
Following is the accounting of why I wanted badly to delete my personal Facebook page.
Goodbye Facebook — You Aren’t Made For Real Conversations
Friends and family do not — absolutely DO NOT — know how to properly communicate with people who disagree over controversial topics. Everything is a civil war, except there isn’t anything “civil” about the way people speak to each other on that platform. No one is free to post their own beliefs without some other person getting up in their grill about it and trying to verbally take them down a notch. It’s pathetic, childish, and pointless.
The answer, of course, is to unfriend the fuckers. Yeah, I hear that. Would that I could! But we’re talking about relatives and people I’ve known since childhood. I just can’t do that. It’s such a STATEMENT and I think it’s cruel.
So instead, THEY unfriended ME. So I kept Facebook, but instead lost relatives and friends. I’m pretty sure you can find a statement in THAT mess.
Goodbye Facebook — I Have Outgrown Your Personal Usefulness
Over the last several years — truly, ever since the year leading up to President Obama’s first election to that esteemed position — I have been going through a metamorphosis, learning more about who I am as a person, where I fit into the world, and how I want to be seen by others. It has been a very painful, yet very enlightening, time period. As mentioned, I’ve lost a lot of friends along the way, but have made many more to take their place. Family relationships have been rocked to the core.
And all because I posted my opinions.
Not because I engaged in arguments on OTHER people’s posts. Not because I hunted people down and bullied them into a corner. Not because I attacked or antagonized anyone. Not because I went after people. Not because of ANYTHING other than saying, “This is how I feel about a topic.”
That kind of behavior is what sent me to the blogosphere in the first place. I don’t like being hushed. I don’t enjoy being told what I can and can’t talk about. I don’t care for political correctness being more important than personal correctness. If someone is being abused, I’m going to speak out about it. For years, in my small circle, this was not allowable. I wanted to keep my circle and my sanity. Turns out you can’t have both. As I continue to find my voice in all this cacophony of online madness, my original circle has dwindled. But I get to sleep at night knowing that (a) I am being true to myself, (b) I am being a loud voice of reason and protest in a world that ENCOURAGES lack of reason, and (c) my circle walked away from me, NOT vice versa.
Goodbye Facebook — You Allow People to Be Cruel
During this time of growth, my intelligence has been questioned — I was accused of being three, and once of not even being as smart as a three-year-old. It was suggested my hubz take a piss in my mouth to shut me up. Another time it was suggested I leave the country. I have been called ignorant, stupid, immature, and a load of other insults. Someone urged, “Bite me!” in a classic display of uber-suave behavior. Another was there to point out any time I complained that I had brought this nasty behavior on my own head by daring to open my mouth.
And this barrage all came from family and friends. Not a stranger among them. These people used to be close to me.
I know, right???
If this is how people in my REAL life treat me, I’m amazed to think how I might be treated by someone I’ve never met.
Here’s the thing, you guys. I don’t post anything on Facebook, or on my bloggy-blog, or on Twitter, that I wouldn’t say to someone’s face. But that’s because I’m a messed up bitch lacking in filters. Assuming you operate the same way — What the hellz is YOUR excuse?
Or… are you, perhaps, hiding behind the screen and hoping no one ever calls you out? If this is the case, you are much more an ass-hat than I, for you are also a chicken and a liar.
Goodbye Facebook —
I’m tired of it.
Not in that, “Pulling up my sleeves, Diving into the fight, I’ma fix this shit,” kind of way.
I’m tired of it in that bone weary, heartache, beat down kind of way. I’m worn through. I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.
To keep my personal Facebook account running would mean I would have to keep being fake, avoiding the real topics, and biting my tongue when everyone else voiced their opinions. That’s not me. I’m not silent. I’m not fake. I’m loud, honest, and real. That’s kind of what I’m known for at this point.
To keep my personal Facebook account running would mean resigning myself to periodic apologies when I fail to STFU.
That’s as far as I got before I was overcome with Depression.
I couldn’t think of anything more to say, because that kind of says it all, doesn’t it? As I stated at the beginning, I’m not actually getting rid of my personal Facebook account. For practical business reasons, it’s not a feasible option.
If you don’t see me around that joint for weeks at a time, though, now you know why. I have to keep you, Facebook, but I don’t have to like it. I’m not saying “ Goodbye Facebook ” so much as I’m LISTENING to people I love say “Goodbye, Andi-Roo”.
PS – I want it understood that I absolutely realize there should be a comma between “Goodbye” and “Facebook”, but for SEO purposes I had to remove the comma. It pains me. Hence this disclaimer that I’m not a comma-forgetting douche-nozzle.