Facebook of Dorien Grey

I am still awake even though. my feet are where the pillow should be so my message must be serious. My heart is tightening the reigns to my fingers so it is hard for them to type. Right now It is easy to understand why the ancient Egyptians thought our thoughts came from within our rib cages and not from within our skulls. It is harder to put into words the certainty begotten in my  gut than feel where it comes from. I cannot check off the boxes offered by Facebook on the reasons to leave it altogether page.

For weeks I perplexed my Husband by insisting that I leave Facebook rather than limit its use. At first I explained to my kind listener some of my more concrete concerns. I did not have to lie since many of the typical reasons applied. But the usual complaints against wasting time on Facebook can be remedied by discipline. I am not good at using all those little snippets of time to actually draw and so that is not even really  an option. And even if I were able to drastically reduce my almost inadvertent refreshing, the off feelings would perhaps linger.

But then he advised me to give up Facebook for Lent first in order to see whether I liked it or not. I was surprised at how much I liked it. In the new silence, I was able to listen to my more subtle inklings about social media. As a faux pas master, I had been grievously tempted to sign up for many virtual universes in the past ten years where it turned out I had virtually no friends. Social media and Facebook in particular made me hungry right where they  promised to satisfy. The more Turkish delight I ate, the hungrier I became. My soul was splintered into countless horcruxes of alternative selves. I was stretched out like butter spread over too much bread. I had to keep checking  with growing obsessive frequency the ideal image I had painted of my life. Has the devil gifted us an evil mirror that makes  the ugly look beautiful and the beautiful ten times as beautiful as before?

 

 

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