It is confession time, and it’s not funny. I am addicted to Facebum. I can’t help myself. I detest it and cannot live without it. I make up the worst excuses about why I need it; networking you know, publicity for my work, the best way to support my causes, to express my point of view, blah blah blah. Puhleez. I am addicted. Plain and simple. I log onto Facebum at least three times a day. It is on my phone. It is on my phone!

There are people on Facebum that I only have relationships with on Facebum. Some of them are people I don’t even know, or like. There are people I have forced myself to unfollow, if not completely unfriend, and I will still obsess about them, particularly if they have posted something that outraged me. There are those I tolerate (old bigots I feel sorry for, punsters, bad spellers, and even the odd over sharer), and those I cannot (racists, sexists, supporters of the Israeli government and Donald Trump). Then there are those I judge; even for stupid stuff, like liking a Lionel Ritchie song.

I hate every youtube video of people falling downstairs, every picture of an abused or starving or bleeding or dead animal. I despise slogans on sunsets. I hate being reminded of people’s birthdays (even though I am deeply grateful for the reminders) and then having to decide whether I care enough to wish them in five words, or whether they deserve a whatsapp message or even phone call. Sies.

I despise with a passion the temporary rainbows or flags with which we are coerced into showing our support for this or that thing, or disaster or cause.

I hate the ‘intelligent’ advertising that knows I need a new frying pan, or that knows I secretly looked for holiday accommodation in Zanzibar.

I hate the FOMO and the nostalgia and the TBT’s and Humpdays and yet, there I am. Daily. (I wish. More like at least 3 times a day).

It’s a disaster. I’ll quickly update my status about it.