I was just like you. I am just like you.

The ‘f’ beckons to me. It sucks me in. It knows just how to push my buttons. How to tease me. How to pull me in.

The f has a direct line to my dopamine reward system.

For years, it was fun. I had great times. It made me feel close with old friends, long-lost cousins. The sight of that f was soothing, I found solace in its promise of never-ending distraction.

This promise of benign escape is powerful, but it’s built on the denial of realities that were never hidden, yet were still somehow repressed: the f uses me.

I am its means, not its end.

The f monetizes my distraction in return for a fleeting illusion of sociability.