Bird

As you know, dear reader, I am not in the habit (at least of late) of talking about me. I like TV and I like talking about that. However last night I left Facebook, de-activating my account, and it has been such a strange experience I thought I might blog about it a bit. I had alluded to the fact on the podcast I was a bit hooked on it, and last night I thought I would see if I could go cold turkey.

When you de-activate an account you are immediately thrown into a time space continuum, where it’s as if you’ve travelled back in time and murdered your unborn self so that every trace of your existence disappears. I thought there would just be a sign saying Juliet has popped out for a bit to get less mental, but instead every post you have ever written goes, every comment you made vanishes, presumably leaving some threads just plain messed up. This much I know because of a couple of calls I got from people checking to see if I was dead. Once they’d got over their disappointment, they told me it was as if I had never existed. So I thought that FB should develop their black and white view of this a little to accommodate those of us who just need to take a break. Perhaps you could have a “back in ten days” post-it, or one of those fancy wooden ones the Chavvy Middle classes have, you know the “I’m In The Garden” or “My Old Man’s A Cunt But At Least He Earns Decent Wedge”, only it could say, “Can’t Perform Anymore Need A Break”.

Today there was an announcement that Facebook was going to have a suicide watch for anyone who looked a bit, well, suicidal. And I thought never mind those bastards, what about those of us going through something much more serious: those of us in danger of committing social suicide. Because that is why I had to leave: after months of joking about and constant banter, a knock to my confidence suddenly found me just a post away from giving away what I was really thinking, you know, stopping the performance and “sharing”, so I quit. And this is me quitted. And fucking bored.