Here’s what I’d tell facebook, if I was using it right now: I miss you. But I’m better off without you. While you’re gone, I think longer sentences again. My attention span stretches out. I worry less about what people think of what I just wrote. I worry less about if I should reply to that one comment or not. I worry less about if someone has messaged me and I missed it in the flood of information. I worry less about if my life is up to snuff. I worry less about WHY I don’t have all the things my friends do, where did I go wrong, do I suck? Am I crazy? I worry less about all the articles facebook shows me because they know I’ll click every time: rape news articles, gun news updates, I worry way less about rape and guns. I don’t know what I’m missing. I have no idea what my friends are up to, but I can imagine. I doubt it’s much new. I’m 38, things are pretty day-to-day.
Friends are calling me more. Or we’re emailing. Or not, and I still know they’re there for me, I don’t need to see their icon to feel them out there. I feel less insecure. I feel less worried about what I’m going to say about that, about grabbing that picture, about reporting that instance. I’m not inundated with people I have no particular interest in talking to, but they have thoughtless and semi-distracted input they’re going to spew in a compulsive effort to feel better about themselves, all from someone who has never stopped talking long enough to get to know me. All those people are gone.
I’m still tweeting, instagramming, tumblring, pinteresting, flickring, livejournaling, deviant arting, it’s not like I’m out of other things to do. People just aren’t COMMENTING. I feel like I’m in the internet equivalent of Portland. All the convenience of a city without all the uptight rushed people of a teeming metropolis.
Until this bad anxiety spell is over, I’m going to cool it on the Sons of Anarchy, the Walking Dead, the Sopranos, all the rape n murder shows I love. (Thank god The Killing and Breaking Bad are over!) I find em so addictive, but I think I’m addicted to the roller coaster of objectionable feelings I get, dumping endorphins into my brain, making me fill with flight or fight feelings. No, for a while I’m going to stick to comedies.