That’s why it feels slightly invasive to log onto the profile of a dead person; that’s why you wince when you read trivial comments on the same profile, knowing all the time that the commenter is no longer around to make such banal remarks.
Over the past several months, I have often described social media as a sort of illusion. There is the illusion of popularity, the illusion of philanthropy, and the illusion of substance.
In some ways, however, I think that the mortality-defying effects of social media are the most illusory and therefore the most dangerous. The more time you spend on Facebook, engaging with the social detritus of your friends, former friends, and hope-to-be friends, the more you sidestep the most central truth of your own existence.
Everyone dies one day, but on Facebook, all you can see is eternal bacchanalia and laughter.
The easiest recommendation is to unplug your life and spend more time appreciating the fragile beauty of real things. The fact that something—a season, a flower, or a person—is temporary, essentially makes that something more valuable.
But realizing that everyone, myself included, needs social media for practical life purposes, a more realistic suggestion revolves around mindfulness.
“Mindfulness”—this may sound like an empty word, but I believe that it encapsulates the overarching message that I’ve tried to drive home throughout a semester of column writing.
The Internet is powerful, practical, and practically powerful. You need to use it for these reasons.
However, you need to use the Internet well, which requires significant reflection. Think hard before you click to open a new tab; philosophize as you sign into Facebook.
Everything about the Internet conspires to sweep you away into an arcade world of images and sounds, but you must resist in order to maintain your identity and willpower.
After all, your humanity is based in this resistance—and in the wonderful freedom that follows.
Sam Danello ’18 is a Crimson editorial writer living in Grays Hall. His column appears on alternate Mondays.