Since returning to Facebook largely for work reasons, I can truly see why I decided to come off.
Maybe it’s my perception of it, or maybe it’s down to a few people within my network, but browsing the social media Goliath usually only serves to make me feel bad about my life. From behind the rose-tinted filter of Facebook everyone’s having a better time than you. They’re happier, better looking, more successful and more financially solvent and their friends a lot more interested in what they’re up to. You’re the sweaty Gollum-like outcast peering through a steamed-up window at the party you weren’t invited to; with a bit of luck you mind find a bit of cake in the bin around the back that hasn’t been tainted by other rubbish.
I’ve written about my distaste for Facebook more than once here, so you’d think I'd have learnt my lesson. Sadly not; it drags you in like the misery porn of a road traffic accident, leaving you lonely and maladjusted to the world you’re reluctantly a part of. The most bizarre part is that none of it’s real. We weren’t designed to see so much of each other’s lives at any moment we want (or don’t want) it; it’s a sensory overload of other people’s kids, dinners, jobs, houses, cars, families, parties, weddings, funerals and ice bucket challenges (clearly the most contemporary popular culture reference I can come up with is circa 2014).
I might go off-grid. Come join me; I’ll set up a Facebook event for it.