Last night I closed my Facebook account. I had only been a user for five or so years, but Facebook had become such a part of my life that closing it caused me an irritating amount of sorrow. And make no mistake, Facebook wants you to feel this way. The site is designed in such a way as to make you feel guilty for leaving. After clicking on Deactive Account, Facebook brings up random pictures of your friends and informs you that “___ will miss you, ___ will miss you.” This is a cheap psychological trick, and it reinforced my decision. I was leaving Facebook because it was taking up too much of my life, both in time and in emotion. The joys of occasionally talking to a friend were far outweighed by the constant disappointment I experienced from political memes and casual discouraging words. I stayed on Facebook, I told myself, because it allowed me to keep in touch with friends who lived in other parts of the country. But many of those friends I actually see in person more than I talk to on Facebook.
So I disconnected. I’m still on the internet. I have this blog. And this one. I am on Twitter (occasionally) and on Good Reads. But I am making more of an effort to update this blog, so it will serve as a more complete view of my life rather than the occasional witty status update. This site will, in theory, be a better indication of who I am.