Because I'm sick of never being in on the joke.
Because I’m sick and tired of looking at captioned photographs of your cats, who seem nonplussed by your determination to constantly photograph them being bored.
Because you’re waging wars that I will no longer be a party to.
Because you never bothered to respond when I messaged you, whether that messaging was small-stakes or concerning a matter that was of great significance to both of us.
Because your account is so consistently inactive that you would inevitably close your account, and while purging my friend list, I would suddenly notice your absence and wonder why I hadn’t preliminarily eliminated you, in a manner of speaking.
Because I don't need your xenophobic bullshit all up in my News Feed.
Because I got the sense that by acknowledging you on Facebook I was enabling an addiction or a pathology.
Because it just occurred to me that I don't even like you now, and I’m not sure that I really liked you back then, and it’s not like we have anything more to say to one another, and I don’t much care what happens to you or what you accomplish or with whom you mate or where you vacation or whatever.
Because you do not consider punctuation a virtue, and because your obscene linguistic texting habits have carried over to corporatized social media.
Because I mistook you for someone else and you accepted my friendship request, for reasons unknown to me.
Because we’re associated professionally but you never acknowledge anything I post about.
Because “content” may be synonymous with “oversharing,” but “oversharing” isn’t synonymous with “entertainment.”
Because I got the sneaking suspicion that I was just another stepping stone on your climb to world friend-list domination.
Because your Instagram snapshots were all blurry.
Because I find prolonged online silence neither saintly nor convivial.
Because life is too short to waste on ghosts.