It’s been about six months since I decided to leave you. I know it was abrupt, and somewhat sudden, but we were just not meant to be a long term thing. I know it’s tough, but there are always more fish in the sea, and I trust that you have already moved on.
You see, you were just not what I had signed up for. Instead of having a place online where I could share pictures with family, and articles that I liked with my selected close friends, you constantly tried to open me up to the world. I like my privacy, and your endless quest to have an open door policy was too much for me. You might be thinking, “But don’t you write a blog?” Yes, but I choose what I share, not whatever you feel. I realized far too late that I was being used by you. In your eyes, I was just a big pile of digital data that could be sold to whomever you decided to receive payment from. That’s not how a relationship should work.
While during my time with you, I ended up spending way too much time mindlessly scrolling the feed, and usually becoming frustrated. Yes, with you and your tireless efforts trying to change my privacy settings, but also with people I should never be frustrated with. You were making me resent my family members.
When I left you, a lot of people told me I would come crawling back. Some people stopped talking to me, online and in real life. They said I was being “stuck up” or “too good” for you anymore. My mother didn’t call me on my birthday. All because of you. But I didn’t come crawling back. An amazing thing happened though: Instead of scrolling your endless feed of worthless information, I picked up the phone and called friends. I talked to people face to face. I became closer with those who really matter.
I’m sure this letter will find you in good spirits. Know that we shared some great moments together, but I can no longer be an endless source of data for you to sell.
Love and light,