I go, as much as you are able to to, cycling through old Facebook messages. They are very old. They go back into 2006 and some of them come across very badly. Some of them are to people I had even forgotten I knew, or knew well, or knew a little bit, or knew lots, or perhaps even dated. Loved, even. Yes: loved. That verb. Past tense.
The past tense of verbs is something that shifts what is happening now to what has become a part of the rapidly disappearing image in the rear-view mirror.
These messages are vignettes of someone who essentially existed a long time ago. That, in aggregate form, exists now, but not really.
To put a closure on something and to inculcate new rules takes time. That same thing that made the vignettes in the first place. That placed such a interesting twist on the memory bank of messages I am archiving. I can’t even find a delete button. Perhaps that is partly the point of this Facebook endeavour. It is collective memory. It has transcended folklore. Now you can re-live that party in 2007. Just – go – onto Timeline.
Look at that outfit. That haircut. That 29 inch waist. Look, then, at that person that would eventually decide that you weren’t really even worth a single email in years. Lives, bifurcating.
It’s a closure.