I’m the face – the high numbers

Facebook (n); popular social media site; directory of cunts one has pushed out of one’s life for valid reasons; a gaily-coloured waste of time.
I have a love/hate relationship with faceboak. On the one hand, I maintain a presence there so that people can find me if need be; on the other, I rarely go on for any length of time.
The fact is, I just can’t be arsed any longer. Oh, you were at school with me? Supposing I remember you, you were probably someone I loathed and who hated and feared me back.
Then there’s the people who erupt suddenly from the past, send a friend request, then once they’ve ‘collected’ you, fail to reply to any messages. What is the point of designating me a ‘friend’ if you’re too damn ignorant to respond to overtures?
On a cheerier note, I got up at 05:45 this morning and wrote a page of journal. In fact, it poured out of me, like pish from a knifed jakey. It feels great, being able to let the words bubble up and formulate themselves into sentences as I transcribe.
And, having lost that for a couple of weeks, I’m certainly not taking that for granted just now!

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