I finally snapped. Deleted LinkedIn, X, Bluesky, Threads, Instagram, Nextdoor, Tumblr, and even Mastodon. Every so-called “community” got nuked. The only survivor? Facebook. Yeah, the digital retirement home of the internet. The one we all swore we’d leave back in 2012 but somehow still check between coffee refills.

LinkedIn can keep its army of “thought leaders” posting about grind culture like it’s a religion. X is a flaming dumpster of bad opinions. Bluesky and Threads? Identical hipster twins arguing about which one’s less corporate while both quietly sell your soul for ad data. Instagram’s a nonstop performance review of everyone’s face. Nextdoor is a panic room for people who think raccoons are plotting coups. Tumblr was like revisiting a middle-school diary covered in stickers and regret. And Mastodon—bless its little heart—was the loneliest dinner party I’ve ever attended.

Now it’s just me and Facebook. The last roach after the digital apocalypse. I keep it because it’s the one place where my friends’ parents post memes about coffee and politics, and I can still see pictures of dogs without needing a new login every six months. It’s messy, ancient, and familiar. Like an old dive bar that still serves your drink even though the floor’s sticky and the jukebox is broken.

Deleting the rest felt like amputating stress. No more algorithmic peer pressure. No more pretending strangers care. Just quiet, and maybe a little boredom—which, it turns out, feels suspiciously like peace.