Leaving facebook at the moment feels a little like moving home. I reach for the scroll bar and start trailing down my newsfeed, looking for interesting excerpts from my friends lives, and feel almost guilty. I feel like I should be cutting down my time on it, in perpetration for eventually being facebookless. It’s been a part of my daily routine for around a decade now; I joined it when it was merely a method of inviting your student friends to the pub after a day of procrastinating in the labs.
I’ve posted on my groups. Said goodbye. Handed over the keys to people I trust. Pointed out alternate methods of contact. It might be interesting to see which friends I maintain regular contact with. Which ones I actually love enough, and actually love me enough, to make an effort to catch up.
A couple of my friends have shared yesterdays post, which I love. So much so I want to encourage it. I want there to be discussion on this. I followed some of the discussion on one sharing until the overwhelming opinion became that, because I’m nor prepared to allow facebook to mine my data, I’m not paying for the service and should therefore leave. I can see the point behind their opinion. It makes me feel like a petulant child, pouting because they didn’t get their own way.
There was always going to be more than one side to this.
I’m still not sure what’s going to happen tomorrow. Will I log in and be asked for ID, only to refuse and be locked out my account forever. Will nothing at all happen, this week of anxiety becoming nothing more than a drama I’m left to feel like I exaggerated and played up until it became more than it was?
I’ll only really know when it comes.