A Writer Says Goodbye to the Twittersphere

I quit Facebook in 2014 after a manic episode that reared its Medusa-like head online. My wall was a mess of incoherent thoughts, followed by all the email rejections I'd ever received, copied and pasted from my inbox. For the grand finale, I wrote that I would stage a hunger strike to protest the government's lackluster care for those living with mental illness. Soon after my last post-but not before I typed out the addresses, emails, and phone numbers of my closest friends (should the news media want to reach out to them for comment)-I was hospitalized and newly diagnosed with bipolar I.

As it turns out, extreme social embarrassment is an excellent way to curb a Facebook addiction. A true introvert and a perpetual validation seeker, I knew my pictures were never cute enough, my posts never witty enough, and I spent hours looking at the profiles of women that guys had dumped me for. "She rides an old-school motorcycle," I'd think. "Makes sense."