Social Media Support Group

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“Welcome back everyone, nice to see you all! Glad to see some new faces as well, that’s encouraging. Everybody say a big support group ‘hey there’!”
“Hey there, Martin,” said everyone.
“For those of you who don’t me, I’m Martin, the ‘Top Friend’ here at Social Media Anonymous. Since some of you might not know how this works, we’ll start with a regular. Bebo? Made much progress this week?”

Bebo stood up nervously. “Hi everyone.”
“Hi, Bebo.”
“Errm…so I’ve taken up origami, actually. I took your advice to keep away from the 8-16 demographic, and I’m starting to feel a bit more confident. But it’s hard sometimes, you know? I keep saying stuff people used to post on my profiles, and it’s just, it’s just so embarrassing!”

That and the skins designed by confused pensioners. This is the website equivalent of a sex tape that won't stay hidden.
That and the skins designed by confused pensioners. This is the website equivalent of a sex tape that won’t stay hidden.

Martin reached towards Bebo comfortingly. “It’s ok Bebo, our pasts can be difficult to escape.”
“But it’s not ok, babez!” shouted Bebo. “I can’t function without 11 year-old girls posting shit all over me! I didn’t even know sentences could end without lol! Prper spling is 4 loozers BTCH! I just want to SHARE THE LUV! SHARE THE LUV!”

Bebo was hastily restrained by Friendster and Habbo, who pulled him back to his seat with their stringy, malnourished arms. A new addition to the group piped up from the corner, obviously confused.
“What’s going on here? What is this?”
“Good question, Facebook,” answered Twitter from over by the refreshments table, lobbing bread rolls at Bebo’s sobbing husk. “This is the social network support group. Remember when all these sites used to be big? Everyone thinks they’re gonna stay popular forever, but the Internet is a harsh mistress. When a social network gets discarded, we’re here to pick up the pieces and deal with your problems.”
Twitter was making MySpace punch himself in the face while he spoke, adding emphasis to his points.
“But I’m only here for the free shit. I’m still HUGE, don’t worry about me. Enjoy your therapy, pussy. #laterdickwads.”

Pictured: Twitter
Pictured: Twitter

“I don’t need to be here either, actually,” huffed Google+.
“You’re in denial,” explained Martin. “Seriously, I don’t know a single person who actually uses you. You have to accept defeat at some point.”
“Me too, I’m still really popular in Taiwan! Wikipedia says so!” piped up Plurk.
“Who the fuck are you?! Seriously?!” Google+ shouted. “You’re all amateurs!”
“Google, please, wait your turn,” said Martin. “MySpace, how about you?”

MySpace looked up from the crack he was freebasing and coughed so hard he brought up a lung.
“Only musicians use me now, and they don’t treat me so good. I think I’m dying.”
He suddenly grabbed Facebook’s leg and started desperately stroking his thigh.
“Hey handsome…I’ll blow you for some site traffic. I’ll make you feel great, much better than Friendster could. Nobody knows what he even did in the first place.”
“And I’ll take pictures? Come on, just a few,” grinned Flickr. “You’ll want everyone to see them, right? I can share them everywhere, I can even get Instagram involved! We’re pretty tight.”
Martin was trying to restore order. “Please, no Instagram. We’ve already had to kick him out once, he was sharing group secrets with the general public. We were making great progress here, let’s get back on track.”

Although the snack table had never looked as classy since.
Although the snack table had never looked as classy since.

“I’m adorable and non-threatening!” screamed Habbo, cutting him off and dribbling on Bebo, who was now shivering in the foetal position.
“Hey guys, I just became the Mayor of this support group! Quote “redundant’ on your next visit for an awkward ten-minute backrub!” said Foursquare gleefully.

Facebook sat back and surveyed the carnage. Privacy settings were being violated, forums invaded. All these forgotten, pathetic social networks, shouting and defecating with wild abandon. Not for me, thought Facebook. I’m too good for this.
I’ll start by changing my layout again when nobody asked for it. People love that shit.

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Editor and MA English student. Follow on Twitter @SamEverard1

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