I have a confession.

I am not a Facebook addict. To me, the word friend is not a verb. Writing on walls will always be vandalism. And I shall never understand how someone can debase the deliciousness of cherry pie by sending it through a computer.

I have watched my friends go over to the dark side. Before Facebook, we frolicked through parks, ate ice cream outside and shopped until we collapsed on dressing room floors.

Now, I hardly see my friends. When I asked them what they did yesterday, they sheepishly admit to stalking their latest crush on Facebook for the whole day.

“Why hasn’t he responded to my wall post? It’s been thirty minutes!” they say. Or “He hasn’t poked me back yet!”

At first my confused gazes elicited charitable looks. My friends would attempt to explain the art of poking over and over. Although the point of poking wars always eluded me, I was beginning to understand basic Facebook.

However, that basic knowledge will never become sufficient. As more and more people have become Facebookers, my friends’ tolerance has waned. They have no time to explain the nuances of Facebook like graffiti or tagging (curiously unrelated)—because I am the only one who doesn’t understand anymore.

In the educational system of Facebook, I am operating at only a third-grade level. Meanwhile, my friends, peers and even teachers are enrolling in college-level Facebook courses. Although I could read Clifford the Big Red Dog many years ago, I am Facebook illiterate.

Some people have suggested that I am morally against Facebook. But that’s ludicrous because—here’s another confession—I have a Facebook. I created it as a way to keep in touch with friends from a summer program, but it has failed miserably. The last time I logged in was a month ago, and I haven’t spoken to any of my friends since a week after the program ended.

The only thing my Facebook account does is sit in cyberspace and gather cyberdust. Although I would love to understand the allure of Facebook, I don’t.

Watching my friends choose Facebook over face time with me has given me a permanent aversion to the site—call me a sucker, but I’ve always wanted to see the person I’m communicating with. And during the school year, I have too many things going on to worry about whether or not my crush has commented on a photo. And when I don’t have homework, I would much rather watch reruns of “Grey’s Anatomy.”

Facebook, simply put, is a waste of time. But you’ll probably just say I’m antisocial.