Facebook Trauma

59 likes. 60 likes. 99 likes. One more please! 5 minutes pass … I comment “Thank you ur gorg/perf/pr8y too!” Back on the newsfeed. 2 more likes. Thank goodness! Past 100. Wait but … what if I can get 120. Ya that’d be great. I think it’d look best. A little less desperate, just 100 looks like I tried hard and just barely achieved it. Wait. Wait. Wait …. Tap impatiently on the keyboard… whatever I give up. I close the tab. Command T. “f…” Facebook.com! Perfect!


Facebook. It’s an addiction. It’s an infestation. It’s lies and popularity. It’s the masochistic struggle with every status update, profile picture change, number of birthday wishes.

What is the “it” I achieved?


The reason we go on it: to check up on our social standing.

First, the popular kids check – for self-assurance, to go flaunt their beautiful lives and tons of friends and boyfriends on facebook.

Then, the regular kids check – to see if they have hopes of still becoming popular, to assure them of friendship, and to chat. The most optimal use.

Lastly, the lonely ones check – to torture themselves. To make themselves feel worse like there’s no way to get better and get over it. But they never do.


Facebook is likes. Its how many you can get in one minute, in one hour, in one day. Its how many wall posts from a variety of people you can get in a day, a week. And the numbers please no one.


The chat list is reassurance – you need to have interesting stalkers, at least 50%  opposite gender – of course you have to stay appealing.


It’s a quest for the perfect profile – the perfect number of page likes without being spammed or looking overly enthusiastic; the most beautiful profile picture, without looking too hot to touch or too ugly to look at, just the perfect amount of goofy in it.


It’s a resume. A resume of friends, opinions, looks – everything on the surface. The social life resume.


It’s a sadistic world. A race for perfection that none can achieve.


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