I deleted my social media accounts. Social media has done more harm than good. I rather spend time online making money than wasting it on social handles.
Some people are built to break.
Last year, I deleted Facebook.
Recently, I deleted my Twitter account, where I had nearly 8,000 followers.
Apparently, these are very important questions. The questions of our time.
The idea that many saw my agony and didn’t seem to show enough concern to reach out was worse than the real cause of my sadness.
The line between the two is indecipherable.
in the bottle.
Call the hotlines. Go offline. Seek therapy. Take your meds. Go to yoga. Collect crystals. Go on that juice diet everyone raves about. Or maybe keto? Be humble. Take your medicine. Don’t cry publicly. Don’t humiliate yourself. Tape your mouth shut. Swallow whatever voice you have left.
Don’t let the healthy bear any of the weight of our sickness. Smile and speak in exclamation points! Use appropriate emojis.
Don’t make the healthy feel uncomfortable because of God-fucking-forbid.
They keep telling us how to live.
And, oh, do we have to behave.
What happens with the overflow? Where does the pain go?
Others unfollowed me and didn’t care at all.
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Friendships are tenuous and their upkeep is hard.
Luckily, I don’t need social media for the kind of work I do, with the exception of possibly LinkedIn and my work accounts, all of which I’ll maintain for professional purposes.
Perhaps compassion has its limits.
Right now, I’m not in danger.
Open a browser and Google it. Put in some effort.
We’re not here for your condescension.
Yet any signs of mental illness and snap let’s report those posts so the depressed are greeted by form emails with numbers to call and websites to visit. As if people don’t already fucking know.
But snap let’s set off the five-alarm fires.
The “crazy” person.
I deleted my social media to solely concentrate on making money online just like am doing with istews.com