Back in the Void

My Facebook account got nuked a month ago. Deleted, blocked, deactivated—I still don’t know which, and Mark didn’t explain. When your job lives online, a month is basically forever.

I waited around for someone from Facebook to respond. Stared out the window. Played old video games I’d already forgotten were bad. The days just stretched. Nothing happened.

Eventually I got tired of it. No Facebook? Fuck that. I know the whole thing is a dystopia designed to steal your life, but you have to be in the room to say anything about it. Being gone means you’re not heard.

So I signed back up, which was definitely against their terms and probably means I’m getting locked in Mark’s basement with bread, water, and WiFi that barely works. But it felt good to be back, liking things, seeing photos of people I barely remember, all the familiar noise.

Except nobody’s actually there. No one spamming me with farm game invites, no one posting pictures of their feet at weird angles, no one in the secret group chat complaining about their job. Facebook without real people is just a void. Which might be what it always is, come to think of it.