I was no longer allowed to post any of my beliefs or express any of my opinions.  I had been doing so for years.  I had been doing so in a direct manner but always did my best to show as little disrespect as possible but, in the end, I no longer held any respect for what they were saying, for what they were doing.  To me and others like me who just wanted to express themselves.

It had been a strange journey.  At first I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it and I was completely untrained in the new manner of expression- it was foreign to me.  But I learned better over time how to capture and express my thoughts, how to reach out to hundreds, and then thousands of followers. In time I had millions following what I had to say and many started to say that I had power.  Power, that’s funny.

I had always been a powerless person from the time I was very young.  Too often bullied and, worse still, ignored. I had long ago retreated into a place where no one knew me and few ever even saw me.  I wrote, it is true, but that writing reached no one.  A girl who was a close pen pal and phone friend shared some of her writings and poetry with me and I shared mine in return but, outside of that, no on read me, no one ever saw my journals, no one knew anything about what I felt I had to say.

I managed to get a few things out in some writing that I did for some very small outlets but this went no further and for years I was left alone with all that I produced. Perhaps one day I would marry and my kids could read me and understand me and someday perhaps themselves tell “my story.”

But then I found FacelessBook and I fell in love.    

My entries were hesitant at first but then I started to really find my footing.  I could write freely and without bounds; I could write with different styles; I could tell the truth or make up stories; I could connect with others just like me or not like me at all; I could be me or not me as I could basically set up my profile to be whoever I had ever wanted to be.  And I have to admit I made me a bit of something or other that I was really not- I hid behind a carefully constructured persona but no one knew and I doubt that anyone cared as it was what I was saying that was drawing attention and followers to me.  That was key and that was me.

Within months my popularity grew and I was finally happy.  The growth continued almost unabated and everyone involved seemed happy as well.  But then something changed.

One day I posted a story that expressed a repressed young man’s joy at having found and finally having had the opportunity to speak freely.  The story was a thinly disguised story about me and my own journey though it is likely no one knew that since my expression was indeed faceless- though many had come to know what I was mostly about none really knew who I was or what I looked like.

Within an hour of posting this simple but powerful story it was taken down.

I tried to find out what had happened, tried to fix it myself, but could not figure it out.  I then contacted FacelessBook and they said they were checking into it but never did get back to let me know what might have happened.  I tried to follow up but just a few times and without much luck.  I shook it off and went back to my writing.

Then it happened again when I posted a piece about a man who had expressed his rather off-the-beaten-track religious beliefs.  I took no position on his viewpoints but thought the story was a good one to make a point about freedom of expression.  Again I was unable to find out what had happened.

And so it went.  Time and again my stories or opinion pieces were taken down, sometimes temporarily, but more often for good.  I started to receive warnings that explained nothing about what it was that I was doing wrong to cause such restrictions. And it appeared from others that it was not just happening to me. 

I admit that I started to write more and more about controversial topics to test my theory that I was being censored.  And I was, I knew it, though the faceless folks at FacelessBook denied it right up until the end.

And the end came swiftly.  My account was removed.  And although I have secretly tried to open new accounts, even from different machines, I have not been successful.  I have found others who have been likewise silenced.  No one I know is writing or giving expression there any longer. 

It is not like I was carted off to prison in a way that might have inspired my followers to some sort of action.  Mine was a huge presence and, in a flash, it was eliminated.  And even if my followers were incensed how were they supposed to express it?  My original site was no longer visible and any additional postings or stories no longer locatable via the search engines, most notably Gaggle.

So I am now back to where I used to be.  I still express myself but no one hears.  I am free to say what I choose but no one cares since no one hears.  This is what I believe they now defend as free speech.  It seems to be allowed but only in private.

I was able to look at FacelessBook recently at the local library, or what used to be a library- nowadays they have just a few books and periodicals and they all have the same face on the cover and say basically the same thing.  The one computer they had that was operational had FacelessBook up so I took a quick look. 

On it was the same face that was on the few books and few periodicals scattered about the rather decrepit single-room library.  On it was his message and not much more. 

When I was writing and happily and openly expressing myself I had been still faceless but my expressions were varied and they were of me, they were me.  I was faceless maybe but not without a heart and not without a soul and surely not without an opinion or a position on the things that really mattered to me.  And that was okay by me.  In fact it was great as I was able to finally achieve the happiness which I had long pursued.

Now, it was clear, that there was now only one message and it was also clear that FacelessBook was faceless no more.