Column like I see 'em
I haven't had Facebook in like, I don't know, eight years? It's been a while.
It's not that I don't like Facebook. It's more like I hate Facebook.
Way back when I had one, I was one of many people who suffer from a phenomenon called Facebook depression. According to the first thing to pop up on Google, Facebook depression is defined as "depression that develops when preteens and teens spend a great deal of time on social media sites, such as Facebook, and then begin to exhibit classic symptoms of depression."
Basically I would go on Facebook constantly. I would worry about what I posted and what I didn't post. I would delete posts that people condemned or complained about.
I tried to define myself through my Facebook page. That misconception led to a bigger problem. In attempting to define myself through my wall, I would view other people's pages as their definite real world selves. The similarity of all Facebook walls basically demand comparison.
I was never happy with myself when placed beside the Facebook girl who just became the godmother of her cousins new daughter after just getting back from her semi annual trip to Greece and collecting her award in accomplishments in science for manufacturing her vaccine against smallpox in gerbils.
Even on the rare occasions when people would post about terrible things that happened to them, they would get hundreds of likes and comments giving support and sympathy.
And you wonder why nobody cares about your problems or wants to help you with anything.
After reading posts like that constantly from everybody, you can start to look at yourself as worthless. And the worst part is you know they inflate life on Facebook. Those people are your friends and family and you hear/know/find out about their problems all the time.
But they can choose what to show on Facebook. And in seeing these seemingly perfect lives, I began seeing my life as worthless.
I deleted mine, and instantly became so much happier. Like, immeasurably.
It’s great, I promise you. The only downside is that everybody wants to Facebook you stuff, and when you let them know you don't have one, they all react the same.
It's this look of total bewilderment. Their head tilts to the side and slightly forward, but they maintain eye contact on their way down, and their mouth slowly falls open, releasing this slow, almost abrasive leak of air while they momentarily forget how to breath.
And then they ask why you don't have a Facebook.
You could tell them why, but rather than be all depressing, like the first half of this article, you can always play the elitist hipster card, which, I gotta say, feels really good almost every time it happens.
There's just something about telling people that you don't do things that everyone else does because you're just so, above all that.
Feels so good. That's also why I wear a pink shoestring for a belt.
Also belts are expensive.
Kevin Niederman is a junior studying nursing.