Dear Facebook,

When I was a wide-eyed freshman in college the idea of potentially "knowing" everyone on my then foreign campus astounded me. I faithfully typed my e-mail and password in several times each day, praying someone would be vying for my friendship. I loved you, Facebook. I trusted you to keep me informed of the quotes people pasted in their profiles, the engagements and breakups of friends and the photographic evidence of last week's party. Then, without warning, you changed. You went global. You spread to high schoolers, teachers, businesses, and then to everyone who needed oxygen to live. Now your site is plagued with advertisements for skin cream and concert tickets. You've allowed companies to market their products using the information we put into our profiles, like we are mindless sponges who must be immersed in advertising at all times. You raped your loyal fan base and stole their dignity.

Now I ask you, Facebook: Is nothing sacred anymore? Must you turn your website into another Myspace, whose users construct their pages like that of an epileptic episode? Must you parade our birthdays, our interests, our favorite movies around to global conglomerates? Are the users of your site merely pawns in your epic game of consumerism?

Like many other companies, you've gotten too proud for your own good. You took a good thing and made it awful. You're full of yourself now, you think everyone will bow down to whatever trendy laptop a website is hawking. You've forgotten that people don't always want to be told what to buy. Sometimes, Facebook, they just want human contact.