Facebook Thinks I’m Lonely

Time works differently for technological advancement. It’s like dog years. A hundred tech years ago machines were only capable of performing singular demands. Since then our programming capabilities and electrical engineering has become increasingly complex, to the stage where not only can machines perform a selection of separate actions, they can adjust their actions according to input and environment.

Gymnasium equipment and machinery can measure our heartbeat and performance and adjust the difficulty of our training accordingly. My Macbook Pro has sensors that detect light and adjust the brightness of my screen accordingly.

And now, through the wonder of modern technology our computers can diagnose depression. Galactic sophistication has allowed my keyboard to secretly collect minuscule secretions from my fingertips as I type, measure my serotonin levels and calculate my social stimulation. Then, after mere seconds of scientific testing a conclusion is reached. My diagnosis is in. Ladies and gentlemen:

Facebook thinks I’m lonely.

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Virtually Documented Popularity

Cameras. Camaraderie.

I hate it. I hate pictures.

I hate smiling. I hate you.

When exactly did social documentation become a legal obligation? Why does every creature with opposable thumbs and access to a camera feel a contractual commitment to chronicle every aspect of every social event in a catalogue of depressing images? Why are there hundreds of pictures of my stupefied face plastered carelessly along the fractured walls of the internet, none of which I endorsed, wanted, or even knew about until I was tagged in them several weeks after said social event took place? Why?! Answer me!

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