I will defend Facebook like it is my nonexistent rstborn child


devononlineThree things defined middle school: silly bands, side buns, and Facebook.

My little tween self would religiously check Facebook day and night. I didn’t want to miss all the drama and juicy scandals happening on the World Wide Web.

I could have been paid big bucks because I knew almost every detail about everyone. It got to the point where I recognized people in public because I had seen (stalked) them on Facebook. Whenever I met someone new, I would pretend I was interested in their life story when they talked to me. Too bad I already knew every detail of it.

As high school approached, more and more of my friends were spreading their wings and ying over to Twitter. They posted less and less to Facebook until my dashboard slowly became weak and uncultured. The gossip and “like my status for a rate” were nonexistent. On average, I was only getting one or two likes on my posts or shared videos. (Thanks, Grandma.)

One time, when I was 10, my mom accidentally left me at a rest stop on the border of Wyoming and Nebraska. Besides the tumbleweed rolling across the interstate, the place was desolate.

The only sign of civilization came from two old people. A man responded to me in a rapidly-spoken foreign language when I asked for a cell phone.  The other was a lady with a shaved head and two pit bulls, so you can picture my dilemma. I felt so alone until, 15 minutes later, I could see our gigantic RV flying down the interstate when my mother realized what she had done. I never let her live it down to this day. Moral of the story, I was completely solitary and not too peachy about it.

This feeling of abandonment and utter sadness was reincarnated
once again. As Facebook activity dwindled, that empty feeling I received at the horrid rest stop started to rekindle itself.

It’s fine I’m fine. I will still defend Facebook like it is my nonexistent first born child.

I do not care how much hate I hear about Facebook. I will always be an avid supporter. I constantly find myself scrolling through my dashboard literally “LOL”ing at videos of pugs in little rain boots or bawling my eyes out watching military homecomings.

Not only do I take long, romantic walks to the fridge, but my heart has opened and has spread the love to the Internet. I could star in a Nicholas Sparks movie about me and my soulmate, Facebook. Spinning on a beach in slow motion with my laptop in my arms is sure to be a box office hit. That’s the only love I need in my life. Sorry, Mom.

Facebook has been with me through it all. It accepted me through my dreadful awkward stages that consisted of neon high-top shoes, Buckle jeans, and planking on every single surface I could nd.

(Fun fact, I used to have an entire album dedicated to this odd fad on Facebook entitled “Plankinggg like a bo$$,” but that’s beside the point.)

Facebook has gotten me through my brightest and darkest of days (darkest meaning my sixth grade scene phase, but we won’t go into de- tail). I have become so cultured thanks to Facebook. I now know how to properly execute a waterfall braid and deal with the awkwardness of being a third wheel. (I think we’ve all been there.)

I remember the day in sixth grade when my grandma uttered the words every grandchild dreads, “Will you help me make a Facebook account?” Fast forward seven years, and now, my Grandma has more friends than I do. I get excited when I check Facebook to see I have nine notifications, then come to realize they are all from my grandma.

It’s okay, though. Grammy and I bond when we are at the dinner table and talk about the videos and posts we shared with each other. The rest of our family looks at us like we have three eyes, but Grammy and I just channel our inner Taylor Swift and say, “The haters gonna hate.” I feel warm and fuzzy inside when she shares my posts on Facebook just show to me o to her Ya-Ya friends.

Thank you, Facebook. My experience has proven to be worth the time. I have met new people, opened my thoughts to a brighter world, and grown closer with my Grammy. Those are irreplaceable experiences, and I never knew just a few mouse clicks and a website created by a college student could make such an impact.

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