Voilà! In a simple click, I took my real self (whatever that means) right off of Facebook like a crumb wiped off of your coffee table. Something like a clean suicide. No horrible bathtub left for anyone to clean, no blood, no horrid rope, no splattered brain on a lampshade. For the moment, I’m not really sure how I feel about my “petit mort,” because at times, I feel far more connected with people I don’t actually know than I feel with anyone in my immediate entourage. Social networks are probably a coward’s channel towards revealing what they really are at the core. Or what they would like to be. I have appreciated the immediacy that internet offers. Oddly, in real life, I have no handicap in the art of small talk. I can strike up a conversation with the person next to me on the bus. But really, I long to get to the heart of the issue. I am becoming more and more haunted by the idea that I have very little time left to waste.
If I were to buy a T-shirt today bearing a clever slogan, mine would say, “Really, I used to be beautiful. I had potential. I am intelligent. I am so fucking lonely.” I suppose that if that T-shirt existed, if I was wearing it, people on the street would politely look away when they saw me wearing the pathetic garment in question, like they look away when they see a beggar hovering on a cold sidewalk. Like I would look away as well. At the same time, I would feel like, having stated my case, I would be standing on firm ground for the development of any human relationship of the 3D kind. Not like on Facebook.
So, I’m not on Facebook anymore. I’m hoping that with all the extra time I should have now that I will really do something useful for humanity. Or at the very least for myself. I’m going to write a book, I will be published, people will buy my book and I, validated (as usual) by the opinions of others…I will decide what to do with the time I have left.