I grew up in one day and proceeded to lose any sense of dignity or privacy, and I did it all while under the spell of a hypnotist who convinced me it would be good to let everyone know what I was doing, what I thought and which Jonas Brother was the cutest (Joe, obviously). This was before Twitter but after MySpace, somewhere jammed between Barbies and the more high-brow jokes in cartoons. This was when I grew up. This is when my life started to mean nothing.

My 13th birthday marked more than the achievement of the title teenager; it signified my initiation into the grown-up world. As soon as I bolted up the stairs of our boxy two-story house after school, I sat at the computer with my mom hovering over me as I created the Facebook account I'd been dreaming about for months. I even had a profile picture ready and everything. That was how all of this started.

Facebook was like MySpace, I guess. Only MySpace seemed to be my mom's domain, whereas I could truly establish my cred as a teenager on Facebook. Despite meeting the age requirement, I wasn't allowed to go buck wild just yet. I remember the stipulations clearly - I could either add my mom as a friend (gross) or give her my password (super gross). I don't know what she was looking for - evidence of hard drug use, maybe? But my desire to explore the web in a new way won me over and I caved. Secrets don't make friends. Right, mom?

I wasn't a bad kid, but I certainly had some unforgivable offenses, all of which my mother - and many others - bore witness to. Looking back, my only - OK, most disturbing - crime was my grammar. Atrocities like "kewl girlz rule," and "I LUV THE JONAS BROS," plagued my timeline. Tragic, I know. As a future English major, I can only plead ignorance and hope this fades away like a ship of regrets sailing into the spot where the sea meets the sun. I have a point, I promise. I'm just not there yet.

Oh, look. We're here.

Social media convinced me oversharing was not only the fad, but it was encouraged. Shamefully, I gave in, but it wasn't embarrassing at the time. I liked people asking who I was dating, what my vague status meant and generally interacting with me. I even met one of my best friends on Facebook, and, though he's been in-and-out, he remains in my life to this day. Aside from that, I began to suffer major self-confidence issues, trying whatever I could - short of posting nudes - to get attention. I hated it. I hated myself. Is this really what I was reduced to? "To be honest..." status updates and silly rants?

I've come to realize how dangerous all of this is. We put our best selves on display for validation, and the addiction of our actions, words and thoughts being approved makes us numb to what we're saying. That's not what I want to be at all. I'd rather be a mystery - quiet and collected - as opposed to loud and furious. I never wanted to be like this. I just want to be me.