Recently, I did a "spring cleaning" on QQ—deleting many so-called "friends." The reason I say "friends" is that they are more like strangers on a list. I cleaned up my friend list like clearing out dusty clutter in the corners of a room, discarding those meaningless contacts one by one. Most of them were friends added in countless situations in the past, but since then, they have remained empty. They quietly lie in the friend list, occupying space, like old items I can't bear to throw away yet are completely useless, even becoming somewhat of an eyesore. When I open QQ and see these "friends," I don't feel a sense of security; those names are very unfamiliar to me, and I'm sure I am the same to them. Since we have never gotten close, why should we occupy each other's lists?
I also left many QQ groups, inspired by a recent comment from TIM of the film and television whirlwind: "In today's fast-paced society, do we really need to know so much?" It made me think about whether these groups are really useful to me. Endless chatting, arguments, and emotionally tone-deaf remarks... it all becomes overwhelming. I really don't need my life filled with so many irrelevant messages... My QQ list has become much shorter and feels much fresher, hasn't it?
I've always had some social anxiety and fear of social situations, disliking those strangers who suddenly add me as friends, feeling resistant to such unsolicited friend requests—neither are they friends, nor do they have any formal matters to discuss with me, just occupying my friend list for no reason. I often regret accepting others' friend requests: I don't really want to connect with them; socializing sometimes feels like a difficult problem for me. Strangers suddenly intruding into my world leave me feeling lost and even a bit repulsed. I dislike the forced small talk because I know we won't become real friends.
Not long ago, I played on a Minecraft server with an acquaintance. At that time, there were only the two of us left on the server, and we chatted casually. He suddenly remarked, "I deleted QQ, and finally don't have to obsessively check for any updates on QQ like a sickly person." When I heard this, I was taken aback; I understood that feeling too well: always opening QQ from time to time, obsessively checking if anyone sent me a message or if there were new group messages, as if I were expecting something, or perhaps just habitually seeking validation. That friend said he deleted QQ and no longer obsessively stared at it, and I felt very envious. This obsession with socializing is like an addiction; I know that most of the time nothing will happen, yet I can't help but open my phone again and again just to see that lonely "0 new messages"...
My mindset has always been quite contradictory: on one hand, I often feel lonely, longing for friends to accompany me and for more social interactions; on the other hand, I feel weary and repulsed by superficial small talk and ineffective socializing. I crave connection, yet I always resist excessive contact; it feels like a paradox. Whenever I feel extremely lonely, I desperately hope someone will chat with me, as if that would prove I'm still alive. However, when someone (especially someone I'm not very familiar with) approaches me to talk, my wariness and fatigue kick in—I want to escape or end the conversation. It feels like there are two parts of me living inside: one fears being consumed by loneliness, while the other fears being overwhelmed by socializing. This tug-of-war makes it hard for me to cope; I understand why I need to delete those people to lighten my load. The emotional pendulum swings between the desire for communication and the fear of socializing, leaving me unsure of what I truly want. Deleting those irrelevant contacts, at least during bad emotional times, can reduce the burden of having to deal with them; yet when I crave communication, facing an empty friend list forces me to accept a reality: they never needed me, while I always long for someone to understand me.
Since that time, I've come to understand a principle: rather than letting a bunch of superficial relationships fill my life, it's better to cultivate a few genuine connections, even if they are pitifully few. The quality of social interactions is far more important than quantity; I have only now truly grasped this simple truth. I've always feared loneliness, yet I have consistently refused to settle. Those moments of unwillingness to settle have shaped who I am today: a clean friend list and very few people around me.
But in reality, the greatest regret is not losing those "chicken ribs," but rather the past that can never return.
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