Dear Facebook,

I know this is an awkward way to break up, through an impersonal letter, but then again, our whole relationship has been impersonal, hasn’t it? Oh, we’ve had our good times, especially back at the beginning when everything was new and exciting. But things change. And I’d like to steal George Costanza’s line and tell you, “It’s not you, it’s me,” but that’s not true at all. Actually it IS you.


Let me start with business. I’ve been blogging at TruthNotes for nearly a year now, and like most bloggers, I found Facebook to be an excellent way to get the word out there and post my articles for more exposure. I’ve had a couple of really popular articles, even one that was shared over 10,000 times on Facebook. Things were going well, but then you suddenly changed that with no explanation. One day in April (April, mind you, seven months ago), you suddenly told me that you deemed my blog “unsafe.” You gave me no reasons for this, just simply made me go through a security check before posting my article for the day. I figured it was a fluke and dutifully typed the security challenge and then clicked the link to contact you and tell you I was getting this message in error. Alas, though, it was no fluke. I continued to get the message every single time I posted a new article. And it wasn’t just on my end. Other people had to do the same to share my article again and even sometimes just to view the article! And what was the “unsafe” link? My own files. Trust me, I take my reputation as an author and blogger seriously. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. I even monitor my comments so as not to allow swearing or other inappropriate things. And no matter how many times I let you know I was getting that message in error, you never once gave me the dignity of a response. Not even an automated reply. I even sent a certified letter to your headquarters. Twice. Nothing. Not a peep. Would you put up with that kind of customer service from, say, a bank? I wouldn’t. And I don’t have to put up with that from you either. You aren’t so high and mighty as all that. I’m done.

Since you’ve never given me an explanation, you leave me no choice but to draw my own conclusions. Here’s my theory. I talk about Jesus too much. You figure anyone who talks that much about their faith must be a religious wing-nut. I must have some “dangerous” ideas to spout off, right? And so you label me “unsafe.” With the lack of an explanation from you, I’m forced to guess on my own. And I’ve gotta tell you, my faith is too important for me not to share. If you can’t understand that, there’s no way this relationship will ever work. Period.

Now to the personal side of things. Sure, I’ve enjoyed seeing pictures and posts from friends, especially ones I don’t see on a regular basis. But at the same time, I find it’s all too easy to waste time with you. I find I’m far more productive when I’m away from you. Plus I can spend more time with real people, like my husband and kids. I don’t need you stealing time from them anymore. And I’m past the whole “like” thing. It felt good for a while to see how many people liked my posts, but I’ve come to realize that I’m more than a bunch of likes. My worth isn’t determined by how many people like my status. I don’t need you to validate me because that’s not where my true worth lies. I am valuable because I’m a child of God. He created and redeemed me, and that’s where I get my self worth. My friends and family love me for who I am, faults and all, and that’s something you can’t provide. I don’t show my ugly side to you. I only post things that will make me look good to others. It’s a fake relationship, and I don’t need that.

So thanks for the memories, Facebook. It was fun for a while, after all. But I’m glad to be free of you now. And if my blog views drop because I’m not posting on you anymore, I can live with that. My viewers can always follow me via e-mail notifications (the “follow” button on the right-hand side of the page for a PC under “recent posts” and “archives,” or  all the way down on the bottom of the page for a mobile device).  I’m sure you have so many other members that this won’t even be a drop in the bucket.  Actually, you’ll probably never even read this at all.  But others might, and it’s possible that just maybe they’ll agree with me.  Regardless, it’s time for us to go our separate ways.  Farewell, Facebook.

Photo is Facebook Mobile App by Maria Elena
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