Why Facebook sucks

I have been very aware of the side effects of Facebook. For myself, that is. Because its so addictive, it was really hard for me to actually go and do something about not wasting so much time stalking people, putting up superficial status updates, waiting for people to like stuff on my profile etc. However much it helps me keep in touch with friends and long lost acquaintances, keeps me in the loop with world events, trends, hot sensations and other similar stuff, i don’t know if all of that should trump the state of my mental health. It’s pretty stupid when you think of Facebook driving you crazy- literally- but it’s true. One fine day whilst studying for some really tough exams, I kept logging onto Facebook for no reason- I realized that I needed to somehow find a way to STOP. So I deactivated my account on the condition that I would go back to it after my exams would finish. It’s been more than two weeks since the pact expired but I still haven’t reactivated my account. And I feel amazing. Here are some reasons why:

1) I can study for long stretches at a time without feeling the compelling need to check if anyone posted on my wall, replied to my message, or just to check if I have any new notifications. I also felt like i did a lot better in these past exams because I wasn’t distracted.

2) I feel less heavy inside. I was very aware of the fact that peoples’ lives upset me. For example, people going to parties that I wasn’t invited to or couldn’t go to, or people keeping in touch with those who I hadn’t made the effort with- and regretted not doing so. It made me feel heavy and jealous. I didn’t like the feeling and although I’m very aware of the fact that I am my own master I guess this is where my avoidant coping skills stepped in.

3) I was also very conscious about who could see what on my profile. There were pictures etc that I had kept on strict private settings but had people view them somehow or the other. I felt as if my privacy had been breached and didn’t like it. I made me worried and always trying to up my privacy settings. By deactivating my account I don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff.

4) I was a Facebook addict. There was always a feeling of anxiety about the stuff that I posted, whether I should post or not, what people would think about it, why people didn’t ‘like’ whatever I’d posted etc. it was ridiculous. So much social desirability. So much need for validation. It was sad. It was becoming cyclical and I was very aware of my thought processes and really felt as if there was a need to put an end to it.

5) I was very conscious. Overly conscious. Of what? To create an impression on someone specific. Someone who I keep writing about; someone who’s on my mind quite a lot. I was very conscious of what content this person would see, would try to make him jealous by carefully selecting ‘envy worthy’ stuff to post, would wonder whether he saw it or not etc. it was crazy. It was like a running header of a research paper you’re writing- just always there. So to break this chain reaction, I felt that it was better if I stepped back to put an end to it. I could delete him but something inside me doesn’t want to. Maybe in time I will find that strength.

I’m pretty happy without Facebook in my life. Sure I haven’t spoken to a lot if my friends for a while, don’t know about hot social networking trends, haven’t kept in touch with people who I can’t without Facebook, but I feel very happy and content. I like it better this way. I’ll probably go back to Facebook in a while when I can’t take it anymore, but till then I’m going to enjoy this vacation. 🙂

We are all so blessed

I’m very aware of the fact that most of my posts are negative and depressing- making me look like I’m always unhappy, ungrateful and often, mentally unwell. I probably am all of those things. But it’s days like this (days when I’m not PMS’ing lol) when I sit down and think about how amazing my life is- how I’d like to live this way forever. Sheltered, living with a lack of responsibilities, facing problems that are probably a fraction of what real life problems are like, living in a time and age when both my parents are alive and happy…and a feeling that tells me that my youth has just begun.

I don’t know how much longer I’ll get to live the luxury of following the routine of a student. Exams, sleeping and waking up late, socializing with friends during school, making fun of teachers, cramming last minute for final exams, taking part in student activities, chilling during a three month summer vacation and most of all, dreading going back to school after this long break. It passes by so fast, and has been doing so, that one doesn’t realize how it went by. I love the feeling of still being able to avoid responsibilities that I know I should be taking charge of; but I have an excuse: I’m young and don’t need to if I don’t want to. I can lay in my air conditioned room, watch Friends episodes all day, spend hours on Facebook without feeling like the pressure of life on my shoulders. I can rest against the softness of my pillow and write without a care in the world that I have an exam tomorrow morning.

I’m so lucky to have had ample opportunities all throughout my life and an amazing set of parents who’ve literally given their lives for my brother and I. I can’t imagine living without them. As much as I would like to explore the world on my own and be independent, in this very moment I’d like things to stay the way they are. I’d like my parents to never die or suffer in any way. I’d like to go to school everyday of my life. I’d like to have fights with my mom about late-night curfews. I’d like to get wasted at a club without caring how I old I am. Id like to preserve every inch of my youth and all the benefits that come along with it.

I graduate in 8 months or so. I’d very much like to slow things down and live like I’m never going to grow older and step into the real world. The real world scares me. It means change. It means that I’m way behind at this point in time. It means that I have to grow up. It means that I’ll never get this time back.
I love the way things are right now despite whatever other problems I go through. Doesn’t everyone have problems?

I’m so blessed. I have love, I have life, I have resources, I have intellect, I have health, I have enough money, I have education, I have friends, I have opportunities, I have memories, I have sense, I have family- I have the future.

My Attempts to Get into Your Mind

Got dressed up for you yesterday. Spent an hour doing my hair and makeup. Wore my sexiest bra. Wondered if my neckline was low enough. I wasn’t sure if you were going to be there but I did it anyway. That’s how much my thoughts about you control me. I accidentally messed up my hair and felt disheartened knowing I didn’t look the way I wanted to in front of you. I wonder if you noticed my effort. I wonder if you wished you had me back when you saw me. I wonder if you regretted doing what you did to me. I wonder if you wished you could turn back time.

I walked up to a group of people, not knowing that you’d be one of them. I didn’t know you’d come. You caught me off guard. I didn’t know what to say to you. I was awkward and angry- I hope you didn’t notice my insecurity as I waved past you to greet the next person. I hope I was able to mask my feelings well enough. I hope you were intimidated by this facade. I wonder if it bothered you. I wonder whether you were awkward too. Did you want to talk to me? Did you feel like I had the upper hand? Did it even matter to you?

I was standing outside. I knew you’d come to the same place soon. My friends were smoking. I don’t smoke. I wanted to prove something to you. I don’t know what it was. I wanted to show you I was stronger. I wanted to prove to you that I was more dominant. I wanted to show you how I’d changed. I wanted you to feel weaker. I took a cigarette and lit it- knowing I’d hate it. I felt in control though. You came. I tried my best to get you to notice what I was holding in my hand. I wanted it to bother you that i was smoking. I knew you hadn’t approved of it in the past. I hope it still did. I don’t know if you saw it or not. I hope you did. I hope you didn’t. You talked to other people around me the while that you were there. After a while you took my name and said good bye. I watched you walk away, the cigarette still burning in my hand. Did you notice? Did it work? Did you care?

I had imagined this scenario in my mind for a very long time. I’d imagined myself making you feel jealous watching me warm up to another guy. I’d imagined you feeling jealous and sad. Did you notice my attempts in doing so last night? Were you too busy with the lady friends you had by your side? Were you thinking about the girl who you’ve been serenading these days? The girl who isn’t me but who shares my name? Did you pity me in knowing that you’d moved on, thinking I didn’t have the slightest of idea? Or did you feel like I had won? I was hoping you felt the latter. I hope that you watched me and felt jealous that I was in my comfort zone. That the other guy wasn’t you anymore. That I had moved on. That I was good now. That I didn’t care about you anymore. I didn’t want to be the weak one. I never want to feel weak with you again. But do you even care about how I feel?

I probably won’t see you again for a long time. I hope I don’t. I probably won’t hear from you for a long time either. I think I prefer it that way. I’ll probably never know how much of an effect I had on your life and feelings last night. You’ll always be a foreign language to me. Incomprehensible.

I’ll probably keep guessing and wondering. Some things never change. Some dynamics remain the same.

23

I’m 23 years old. I’m a final year psychology major. I have my whole life ahead of me. But why do I feel like it’s slipping out of my hands so fast? Why can’t I get up and do the things that I want to do? Why do I feel something heavy pulling me down? Why do I feel so anxious?

I’m scared of ageing. I feel as if I already have. I feel the lines on my face although they’re not there. I sense the lethargy and pessimism that I hear accompanies old age. I already experience guilt for things left undone and words left unsaid. I pray to God to somehow turn back time so that I can relive the good times.

I’m only 23.

I’m single- looking for companionship; feeling the sense of loneliness that my grandmother says she experiences as a widow. The society I live in doesn’t really help my case. There are things people don’t know and will hopefully never know about me. My fear rests in the fear itself of these things being made public. I’m unhappy. I feel it. I’ve been in therapy for more than a year- somedays are good and somedays aren’t. I’m 23 and I’m tired. Exhausted actually. Physically, emotionally….spiritually empty..but in Spite of that, Thoughts overspill in my brain. They don’t seem to stop. They can’t stop. I try to make them stop but they don’t.

I’m also fixated. Fixated on a person who broke me while I was trying to fix him. I was 21. Ambitious to fix, eager to love and be loved back. I was good. Good was until I was used and abused and thrown aside. 2 years passed, and I’m still standing in a place I expected myself to have long left behind. Waiting? In a way yes. Hoping? Definitely. Regretting? Unfortunately.

I’m 23 and life hasn’t ever seemed this bleak. My misery makes me miserable. ‘Don’t tell me our youth is running out- its only just begun’ plays in the background. Ironic.

There’s not much to say. I’ve been trying for so long but on days such as today, I feel the weight on my shoulders- on my heart. My hands give in to compulsions as they pull at my beautiful hair- I want to stop. I’d like to be better again.

I’m 23. Hoping to get better.

Metastasis

Day 2:

I feel….I don’t know how I feel actually. It’s a whirlpool of emotions; hard to identify and explain. More stable now; think things might be making more sense now. I’m not sure if I’m shocked or not…or in a state of shock…there’s something there; a thudding, vibrating pain of some sort, a constantly present elephant in every room, every corner I go to. I’d like it to leave but I don’t think that’s possible any more. I took the step of writing that letter this morning- it was hard. I guess, unlike what i’d previously thought, the third time isn’t a charm. Or whatever. Life must go on – despite the strong urge I’m experiencing to remain sitting here for the rest of it. I idealise myself to be consistently strong, but the weakness is hard to ignore. It’s something that I must develop. Something tells me that my mind might be over-exaggerating the situation; it may not be as bad as I might be construing it to be.

It’s a very “wish I didn’t know now, what I didn’t know then” sort of situation. It’s like a permanent scar that is going to remain with you all your life, whether or not things work out. This moment can’t be reversed; memories cannot be altered, emotions cannot be controlled and regrets cannot be rectified now. It’s a little too late. But all you can do it to wait it out, cope and…..carry on.