I killed my Facebook account

So I quit Facebook. I un-friended everyone on my ďfriendsĒ list, I deleted all of my pictures and albums, I deleted as many of my posts as I had the patience for, and then I deactivated my account. Iím under no illusion that Iíve actually ďdeletedĒ everything, as Facebook is quite upfront about their storing all of that stuff forever. I may only live for another couple of decades or so, but my wedding photos will still be available to scholars yet un-born.

I quit because something I saw made me very unhappy. Iíd had enough of people that Iíd reached out to leaving me in a ďfriend request pendingĒ purgatory. Iíd had enough of posting things that were important to me, or important in my life, and having nobody notice or comment. The last straw was when I saw that one of my ďfriendsĒ, a person that I actually thought was an actual friend in meat space, had a party, and neglected to invite me. It was like a slap, and it felt like rejection. In that, it was one rejection too many. Seeing pictures of this party reminded me of the rejection of other parts of my life, and I was cut to the bone by it. At first I felt slighted. Then I felt sad. Then I got suicidal. I felt terrible, the worst that Iíd felt in about ten years, and we all know what was going on in my life ten years ago. I felt like ending it all. But I didnít kill myself. Instead, I killed my Facebook account.

So I wonít be there to help you play your song lyrics game. I wonít be there to help you run your farm, build your Mob, or pirate shipping. And I wonít hear about your band playing in a city far away or a venue close enough to attend. And I certainly wonít hear about things that I would have liked to have done, but wasnít considered enough of a friend to be invited to.

I also canít get passed how much this sounds like some kid in junior high who wasnít included in activities with the cool kids, and is shown to be the looser he is. Fuck that. However irrational the hurt is, I own it, I feel it, and I hurt with it. Maybe this person didnít intend to hurt me, or even had an inkling of what hurt Iíd feel. I donít care. The rejection that I feel hurts whether the act was intentional or not.

So today Iím a bit better, if a bit benumbed by it. Iím reevaluating what friendship means to me, and most of you have come up wanting. And yes, Iím still feeling sorry for myself. It turns out that nobody else will, and some things just need to get worked out.


This page is authored and maintained by Rich Webb.You can send E-mail to me by following this link to the contact page. And feel free to contact me if you have any comments, criticisms, or suggestions. I remain, however, perfectly capable of ignoring your useless opinion...

This document was last modified on October 27, 2009, and has been viewed countless times.