Social media is a joke. It makes people feel like they are important, but it's all one giant lie. In 2024 I made an announcement on Facebook that I was going to leave the place. After being subjected to many different incidents of bullying (though Facebook had labelled ME as a bully due to their AI nonsense picking up key words and deciding those were being used to bully (taking it completely out of context - simply looking at a word)), being flooded with advertisements, and seeing the same posts over and over (missing anything newly posted, so missing posts by those on my friend list) I decided that I was done with the place. It just continued to make me angry, and I didn't need that. After my post, some of those on my friends list who had seen it commented to say "Don't leave!" "I'll miss you!" and the other usual "stay" responses. I provided my email address to some who said they wanted to keep in touch. On December 31, 2024 I deleted my Facebook account and left.
I still had Instagram, which I didn't use often, but it was there. I had a couple of my Facebook friends on there, my niece and my sister. So, I started looking at Instagram more. None of the people who claimed to care about me, claimed they would miss me if I left Facebook, bothered to keep up with me. I have sent an email to a friend who said he wanted to keep up. He's never bothered to reply back. I had one friend who had called me his "family" and referred to me as his "sister'. When his birthday came around, I sent him a text message to wish him a happy birthday. He never replied. I sent him a happy birthday message on his Instagram business page also. Again, no response. I had thought maybe something happened to him since I stopped seeing the Instagram posts. Then suddenly, a post appeared. I responded to it saying I had been worried, had sent messages and heard nothing. The response? "I'm fine" (or something like that - good, okay.. I don't remember the exact word). Nothing about the birthday wish. Nothing "familiar" or "friendly". So I decided he didn't care either, and deleted his number from my phone book.
One of the things I have been struggling with since mom passed away is the feeling of being redundant. I am closer to my sister and father than I was, which is a bonus, but still. I don't have children, so no one needs me. I don't have a spouse. Hell, my boyfriend doesn't even seem to want to advance to that stage. (Granted, he is American and I'm Canadian so there's a lot of red tape there, but when I mentioned us getting married so I could try sponsoring him and we could be together, he came up with a few excuses to the contrary, so I really don't think that's what he wants.)
I don't know why I am still on this planet. My existence should have ended when mom passed away; or at the very least after I had sorted the paperwork out for that. Maybe the universe is waiting for me to get off my ass and get my Will done so that my paperwork is in order. I don't know. I do know that I feel lonely, and that I feel down, and that I feel like I am existing. My days are generally like this - [Work Days] Get up, make breakfast, do stuff on the computer (Solitaire, email, etc) if I don't have to be in at 9am, then get my stuff together and got to work. I work my shift, come home and then play video games on my PC for the evening until bedtime. I talk to my boyfriend from 8pm-ish until bedtime. [Non-Work Days] Get up, make breakfast, go on the computer - do Solitaire, email and the like, then play video games for the day. It's just existing.
What would I do otherwise? Hah! I have no idea! I don't know how to do anything but exist. I'm lazy, so pushing myself to do exercise type things are pretty much impossible. I HAVE walked over to the mall when I needed something there a couple of times; so that's something, I guess. I'm too damn shy to do anything about friends. I've become friendly with a guy in the building - Brian - while dealing with the condo board stuff. He's been really nice, even offering to take me on a tour of the London Museum when I said I had never been (he works there, teaching art and stuff to kids) and inviting me to Thanksgiving dinner at his condo. I don't know what it is about me. Maybe it's a fear of rejection. Maybe it's me thinking I'm not worth much; I do feel like I'm redundant/irrelevant. I have no idea.
I write my thoughts here, in Blogger, because I know that no one else reads it. I can say what I want, say how I feel and no one can judge me or put me down or bully me. I can get it out of my head and onto a page where I can look back on it later (though I probably never will). It's kind of like writing in a diary; but doing it online on the computer rather than hand writing it in a book.
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