Sometimes Deleting People Is The Only Way To Stay Sane On Facebook

On a typical day, my Facebook feed can be a little rough.

We live in an age of constant sharing — and everyone is taking full advantage.

Some of their posts are good, like baby announcements and sunset pictures, and some are just God awful, like fat-shaming strangers at Universal (not making that one up). That kind of noise takes a serious toll on my happiness. 

While you can simply avoid that nastiness by never scrolling again, if you want to be a modern human, you're gonna have to post.

Meaning you're also subjected to receiving everybody else's opinions. 

Usually, it's a harmless great aunt who hasn't figured out how to turn off her caps lock, but sometimes it's your ex-boyfriend's dad who has no sense of personal boundaries. Both of which I have experienced. 

And when I'm faced with a negative adversary to my positive vibes, I tend to take the route of total denial/forced politeness. 

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"They didn't mean it!" I squeal into my computer screen. "There's no way they knew how offensive and mean that sounded!" 

Pure intentions aside, what it really comes down to is taking ownership of every part of your life — even your virtual one. 

You may not feel like it, but you have the right to control who is and isn't on your friend's list. You don't have to put up with Debbie Downers and passive aggressive bullies if you don't want to. 

Of course, I knew if I was going to preach this advice, I'd have to practice it. So I went on my first-ever deleting spree, and what I found was kind of terrifying. 

I had absolutely no idea who half of the people I deleted were. Just random strangers requesting to be my friend who I felt weirdly obligated to share my life with.

It's the virtual equivalent of answering the door to a slightly creepy solicitor and inviting them in for dinner because you kind of feel bad. 

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Maybe they were harmless, maybe they were serial killers. Either way, they had no business being all up in my business. 

The rest of my "friends" who got the boot included old coworkers that I never got along with, friends of ex-boyfriends and people from high school who I never said two words to but know all their dirty laundry. 

When the spree was over — and my pointer finger was sore from all the button-pushing — I had reduced my friends list from 1,047 to 533. As it turns out, I'm kind of a bitch.

But at least now I'll be a bitch with a happier news feed.