Getting out of Facebook is a slightly complicated process. You can either deactivate your account (with the option to go back any time) or permanently delete your account - an option I could only find via Google. Like a proper divorce, it comes with a waiting period of 14 days.
If you go for deactivation, Facebook knows you're not 100% serious. That's why they use emotional extortion as seen above. They tell you that the last five people you've messaged through Facebook will miss you. Then they present a counter argument for every conceivable argument you could possibly have for leaving. I suspect these options are based on thorough research and I especially love "I don't understand how to use Facebook". It has so many levels :)
After investigating the 'deactivate' path, I went with deleting. The funny thing is that when you bravely click 'delete', nobody argues with you at all. They don't care why you're leaving. I guess if you're determined enough to "self destruct" like that, you're beyond convincing. Although I should probably expect some digital stalking during the next 14 days. Divorces are messy business, right?
The Shrinking World Phenomenon
Right after deleting the account, I left for a Pilates class. On the way there, I had a weird sensation of my whole world shrinking. All the invisible strings I had cast everywhere around the globe were suddenly pulled back and I was enclosed in my immediate reality, completely present in that car, on Links road, passing the golf course and stopping at the intersection. For a moment, I had a feeling of being just washed up on a desert island. Nobody knows I'm right here, I thought to myself. It made no sense. When I was on Facebook, I never updated about my daily activities like that. Towards the end, I hardly shared anything. My latest profile pic was nearly two years old. But things don't have to make sense to be profoundly felt. Maybe there's something we're sharing of ourselves by just being there. Maybe my soul was so deeply distracted, my focus split into million pieces over time, that it needed to be reeled in.
Here I am, right here, hungry, sweaty and tired in my tiny little world. It's so cosy. Like camping in your own head.
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