I Just Burned 44,400 Hours of My Life on Social Media – Here’s the Receipt

A true horror story in three acts, starring you, me, and the trillion-dollar vampire that lives in your pocket.

Act I – The Free Candy (2004–2012)

Imagine a quiet street in 2004. A white van rolls up. The side door slides open and a friendly man in a Harvard hoodie leans out.

“Hey kid, want some infinite connection? It’s free. Forever.” You’ll never feel lonely again. Your art will be seen by the whole world. Just step inside.”

We all climbed in. I was 30 years old, running a tattoo studio in San Francisco. Facebook had 1 million users. I posted a photo of a freshly finished back-piece sleeve and 400 people liked it in an hour. 400 strangers told me I was good. My brain lit up like Christmas. They didn’t ask for money. They just asked for my soul, one dopamine hit at a time.

By 2010 I was posting twice a day and getting an average of 172 reactions per post. I added 1,487 new “friends” that year alone. Revenue climbed. Life felt electric. The candy was free and it tasted like fame.

Act II – The Walls Close In (2013–2019)

One morning I woke up and the van had no windows anymore. The friendly man was gone. In his place sat a faceless algorithm wearing a Meta logo for a face.

“New rules,” it whispered. “You want your friends to see your posts? Pay me. Or post ten times more often. Or both.”

I laughed. I’ll just work harder. So I did.

2013: 520 posts

2016: 1,100 posts

2019: 2,100 posts

Every year the number doubled. Every year the reach collapsed by half.

I started filming reels at 2 a.m. Editing on the toilet. Liking 200 posts a day just to “stay visible.” My son asked why Dad was always staring at a glowing rectangle. I told him it was for work.

Meanwhile, quietly, in the background:

• Facebook’s ad revenue went from $7 billion (2013) to $115 billion (2023)

• Average organic reach for business pages fell from 16 % to 1.2 %

• 64 % of small-business owners reported clinical burnout directly tied to social media (Forbes 2024)

The candy wasn’t free anymore. It was laced.

Act III – The Receipt (2020–2025)

Last month I downloaded my data. Two platforms. Fifteen years. The file spat out a single number that made me throw up in my mouth: 44,400 hours.

That’s 5.1 years of continuous wakeful life. 1,850 straight days. Eleven full-time human lifetimes handed over while the platforms printed money.

In the same period:

• My average reactions per post on Facebook fell from 172 → less than 2

• Instagram gave my last 30 posts a combined reach of 312 human beings

• Meta’s market cap passed $1.3 trillion

They didn’t just take my time. They monetized my addiction and sold it back to me as “exposure.” And the worst part? I still felt the itch to post this article on Instagram the second I finished writing it. That’s how deep the conditioning runs.

Final Scene – The Only Door Out

There is no reform button. There is no “better algorithm coming.” Zuckerberg himself said in an internal memo (leaked 2023): “Growth is God. Engagement is the only metric that matters.”

They will never stop tightening the slot machine. The only winning move is to stop playing.

So I did.

I deleted the apps. I archived the accounts. I changed every bio to:

“We no longer live here. Text  ‪(415) 638-9643 or visit bogdanov.com to find us in reality.”

Because real humans still want real art from real artists. They just need to know where to find us when we stop screaming into the void. If you’re reading this and your hand is already twitching toward the share button, stop. Close the tab. Open your phone calculator instead. Multiply your average daily social-media time by 3,650. That’s how many days they’ve already stolen from the back half of your life.

Then ask yourself the only question that matters:

Do you want the rest of them back?

If the answer is yes, reply to this email with the words LOUD & CLEAR. I’ll send you the exact method to see your own face in the abyss. I walked out of the van forever.

The candy man can’t hurt you if you never take another piece.

See you in the real world.

Peter Bogdanov

The guy who finally stopped feeding the machine bogdanov.com

Next week: Act II of this horror story – how the contagion spread to every business owner you know. Same bat-time, same bat-channel. Or just text me at  ‪(415) 638-9643 and skip the suspense.