Facebook Hangover and Life After

Study says, 33% users become somewhat dissatisfied with life or present status, right after using Facebook. I didn’t believe it. I thought it was preposterous. Some bull-shit. I mean Facebook is just a media, a time pass and something to long onto when nothing else works. How can it dissatisfy someone?

Well. I was wrong. It’s fucking dissatisfying. I Gini-Pigged myself.

First, the happiness. Always someone is marrying or getting into new job or moving into new town or travelling some cool places. And looking into them in screen while wobbling in a stinking sweaty crowd in a moving metro coach, or sitting on a dull chair before a junky desktop alongwith gloomy colleagues in a dismal room, obviously sucks the leftover happiness or whatever. So I scroll down with a silent growl.

Second, the selfies. The piggy style or goat style or monkey style or donkey style, whatever style they follow, the girls look always hot and the boys look muscled stud. I look on contrary, always clown. My phone is full of selfies. But not a single one is up-loadable. Some’s postures are weird, some’s smiles are misplaced and ugly, or others’ brightness are too high or too dark. So I scroll down further, disgruntled.

Third, the likes. That’s a huge downing. I mean HUGE. The mystery of getting ‘likes’ always is over my head. I post a photo or write a post. Then wait and wait. One hour. Two hours. Hardly three likes, or maybe five. And then I look to the shitty post shared by a junk or slut, not even written by them and that is liked by thousands! I press the quit button, go to home screen, check time and then put the damn phone back in pocket. Now I’m frustrated. Why people don’t like my photo or posts? What went wrong?

Fourth, the comments. Sometimes it sickening. I share a post praising Modi, I’m extreme Hindu. I write something on good deeds of Kejriwal, I’m a traitor. I appreciate Mamata’s honesty, I’m no-doubt a ‘chor’. I sympathize with NIT Srinagar, I’m a dumb fool. I’m concerned about Govt interfere in JNU, I’m a terrorist.  Or, I share good efforts of Kailash Satyarthi, I’m a show-off from an ivory chair. It’s simply terrorizing that somebody always is there to fuck your post or photo or comments.

Fifth, the life altering dreaded posts. Always in news feed, some posts are there either threatening me to share them then and now, otherwise bad things would happen in life, or, promising me that my one like or share would save somebody’s life. And there are countless ‘friends-how-am-I-looking-today’ posts. I don’t know what to do. I never know. It’s like giving one rupee to a beggar, sitting across the metro gate. You give, he’ll beg still, and you’ll feel bad. You don’t give, you’ll feel bad, but he’ll beg still. So, irrespective of my choice of sharing those posts or liking them, I never am happy.

Sixth, the messages. The effect is same as Whatsapp. In the chat box, last text is ‘seen’. Okay. Then ‘typing’. Okay. Then ‘typing’. Okay. Still ‘typing’. Okay. And then she’s gone. The blue dot vanishes. She logs out. I put a question mark in chat, and then wait for some more minutes. She may come back. But she’s not. I close Facebook, and there’s not a single cell in my crap brain, emitting happiness.

There’s more. But the bottom line is the study was good, that one third of Facebook users feel shit right after using Facebook. It’s depressing.

In the meantime, as I’m writing against them, the Facebook has promised to donate ten dollars to an orphanage home in Varanasi each time this post is getting liked or shared. One share/like = Ten Dollars. 

You know what to do. 

(Pic Courtsey : facebookaddiction.com)