Oh, the pressure!

I recently deleted my MySpace page. I had grown to hate MySpace and resent its intrusive presence in my life. I hated the targeted ads I was seeing every time I logged in. I hated that my so-called friends had gotten in the habit of only giving out any information about their lives through their blogs and considered that communicating with others. I especially despised the hollow empty feeling I would get whenever I tried to convince myself this was a true means of staying in touch with others.

Secret (not): I am an introvert. I love people. I can socialize beautifully for about two hours tops until I feel like my brain is imploding. This happens even at family gatherings. My soul is literally sucked out of my body anytime I attempt to make what is termed small talk. I require time and space to myself to feel fully human and be ready to face whatever life throws at me. But I am not a loner. I get lonely. I tend to isolate myself too much, sometimes not out of necessity, and feel as if my emotional walls are closing in around me. That point when I believe it's totally okay to be alone all the time? That is the point at which I should start worrying. That is the point where I've given up.

But freaking MySpace tortured me with its seemingly perfect opportunity to keep in touch with multiple people at once. Instead I felt I was taking part in some shallow vapid game of ironic oneupmanship and continuously emptying my heart to people who couldn't be bothered to share with me personally the news of their lives. Then the guilt would set in if I didn't keep up with every little bulletin, every blog, every change to their page, their pictures. And I couldn't just see it, no. I had to comment on all of it.

Small talk in the virtual world. That sound you hear is the whooshing my spirit makes as it slowly dies.

I hung in there. For months. Because (are you ready for this?) I was afraid everyone would forget about me. Yes, I am that pathetic. Recent events, though, convinced me that the relationship is officially dead. I got into my third argument with the same friend over a miscommunication through MySpace messaging. And insert the ARRRRRGH!!! here, please. After I got over being angry, and then got over feeling like a moron (because this never would have happened if we had been talking face-to-face), I deleted my page. I thought I would regret it. I thought I would miss checking in on all the minutiae of my friends'/acquaintances' lives. I honestly thought I would feel like the kid not invited to the party but who gets the joy of hearing everyone talk about it later.

What I actually feel is...free.