The E Cigarette

Addictive. Fun. Guilty Pleasure. That's what many have called this entity we know as Facebook. For me its been all this and more. Meeting new people, making new friends. That's how it began. Once upon a time it was fun. I opened my account back in 2007 or 2008 (after everyone I knew left My Space) (where I preferred to stay as they had the better options of decorating their timeline) Since then, I met many nice people from all over it seemed. I opened various pages and groups, and the best part was using Facebook to promote my first book Love Child which I had published in 2011. I continued this trend when I published Love Child's sequels Child No More, Child Scorned, and Child Game. I was proud and humbled to find the fans I did, and I was pleased to make friends with them as well.

Those were good times. That was then. Things have changed fast and it didn't take long for me to become disillusioned with Facebook. Despite my addictive nature of signing in, I have become more disgusted and more detached than I was years ago when I spent so much free time signing it. Now, I've become disillusioned. But still signing in. I tell myself its for my books and for the most part it is. But I still scroll. I spend more time doing that than I need to especially when some people I considered friends would go on to remove me from their friends list. Why did they do this? Because we disagreed on political beliefs. One of Facebook's main problems if not their main problem.

Read this poem from Tristian Comer. 

Facebook, the True E-cigarette

It's another day of logging in

To see all of the new posts,

To wish someone a happy birthday,

Or comment about someone's new sleigh,

Oh where to begin...

I start wasting hours playing Candy Crush.

Then I browse through countless pics,

The ones that show a life better than mine.

I really should get back to work,

But I'm about to go berserk.

I’m also trapped in a numbers game.

My status somehow only gets 2 Likes,

While Scott’s gets 54.

My engagement gets 1 comment,

While John's gets 67.

I long for a way out.

I think back to ten years ago,

When my free time was spent outside,

Where I would swing and slide,

And hit balls around the yard.

The end of it, I long for,

So I'm not a zombie forever more.

The poem describes Facebook very well. From comparing my post likes, to someone else's. Being old enough to remember life without social media. Recalling a life before social media overall. As an author I can't deny that Facebook has aided me in book promotion. The opportunity of instant posting has saved me time I could only dream about years ago.

As previously mentioned so much has changed. Facebook became nothing more than a political forum. Since the election of Donald Trump, and now with Covid 19 this has only worsened. Political posts dominate the newsfeed. I've contributed to that as much as anyone unfortunately, unable to help it. I can't deny this, and it has left me in author limbo. Unsure of how to reach out to readers even my loyal ones. I struggled to promote my last book Child Game (fourth book of the Child Series) The few posts I shared regarding the book didn't receive much response. Perhaps, I could have worked harder on promoting, and I only blame myself, but truthfully I felt awkward. I can't explain it, but the intense political atmosphere was almost overwhelming maybe intimidating. I didn't feel comfortable sharing posts anymore. 

This could have been caused by my own participation in the political atmosphere. Should an author remain neutral on social media? Maybe just post and get out? Or keep scrolling? I didn't know and still can't say for sure. The twenty sixteen election and its results certainly contributed to the bizarre past four years to say the least. But even before Trump moved into the white house, I had already lost contacts over political posts. Despite attempts to remain neutral some things were too important for me to simply ignore. So I continued to post the political stuff while almost ignoring my own works. Our Facebook world was mostly political, and I got swept up in the insanity.

And speaking of insanity. Then came this year twenty twenty. The nightmare of Covid 19. The surreal world of masks. Life changing as I stayed indoors. This would be the year that Facebook for inexplicable reasons disabled my account. This came out of nowhere, but I wasn't worried. I discovered my account had been hacked, but when I forwarded my information to Facebook (as they themselves requested (so I could prove the account was mine) it hardly mattered. When I attempted to create a new password I was denied. My account had been disabled for violating community standards, and according to what I read, I couldn't get it back. This was baffling for I never violated community standards. The hacker must have done that. The most I did this year as I'd been doing for the past few years is share political posts. It wasn't all I shared but so much of it was.

If I said it didn't matter I'd be lying to myself. Well partly. I came to loathe Facebook years ago even as I came to depend on it. Since beginning my account, I deactivated it various times just needing to get away from it. Of course, I always came back. Facebook has become part of our lives whether we like it or not. We share so much of our personal lives there (some real, some not) our pictures, our thoughts, and we make friends even as we lose them. For me the loss of my many pictures was crushing. The loss of poems (I didn't always write them down ugh I know) which I also shared on my timeline. I felt violated from the hacking. To lose my account with it had definitely added insult to injury. I still can't know why. Speculating can be a waste of time. Was it my politics? My own beliefs? Or was it something else? Had I offended someone so badly that they had to hack me to the point of disabling? And here I am speculating. How could I not?

I created another account after swearing I wouldn't. I loathe it even more now, but I still have some loyal friends and readers despite the share I've lost over the years. I still want to believe Facebook could help my writings somehow. (one of a few social media sites) I want to be able to promote my books there even if it hasn't made much difference lately. I could be fooling myself however. Why not take that way out like the poem suggested? Why not return to the days of window shopping, reading or lounging around? To the days of watching Television while penning ideas for future stories.

Perchance...I became that zombie. Forevermore.