You Know Who You Are

Facebook.

Admit it you have one.

Or rather, admit that you don't really remember your life without Facebook.

Okay, maybe the latter two don't really apply to you, it was just an indirect way to state that I:

A. have a Facebook.

and

B. I don't really remember my life without Facebook.

But let's put my unreasonable obsession with social networking aside and talk about the one blackhead in the clear skin that is Facebook.

Notes.

Yes notes. Not just any notes in general, but the notes that make you cringe when you read them. The heart searching, soul wrenching, personalpersonalPERSONAL diary-esque notes.

The notes about how much you hate someone, (who tactically, also happens to have a Facebook and can read these rants) how much you're madly in love with someone, (again, the subject happens to have a Facebook) and even the poems/song lyrics about the depths of your black heart and how you're going to cry yourself to sleep if your beloved doesn't write you back on Myspace.

This is harsh, but it's the truth: NO ONE CARES.

I understand the need to write about some of this stuff, but PLEASE. Make it private? Write in a journal, a diary, open up a Word Document on your computer. Set up a blog and don't tell anyone about it!

I don't know if this is just me, but I would sort of feel embarrassed to be spilling out the entire contents of mind and heart for everyone to read and gossip about during lunch the next day.

And yes, I don't HAVE to read these things, but seriously. They're on Facebook. They're going to be read by someone, eventually.

C'mon, if you really want attention this bad, come to school wearing a Big Bird suit with Christmas lights and a leather skirt; at least then, I'll get a real laugh out of it.

...

Sorry if this seems to be a more a more angry and poorly written post than before, just needed to do a little keyboard bashing.