A while ago, I did a 'big cleanup' on QQ—deleting many so-called 'friends'. The reason I say 'friends' is that they are actually more like strangers in my contact list. I cleaned up my friend list just like cleaning out dusty clutter from a corner of a room, discarding those connections that only exist in name. Most of them were just added at some countless occasions in the past, after which there was only emptiness. They lie quietly in my friend list, occupying space, like old items I can't bear to throw away but are utterly useless, and they even look particularly unsightly. When I open QQ and see these 'friends', there is no reassuring feeling in my heart—those names are very unfamiliar to me, and I am sure I am the same to them. Since we never really got close, why occupy space in each other's lists?

I also quit many QQ groups. This inspiration excuse came from a recent sentence I heard from TIM from Video Hurricane: 'In today's fast-paced society, do we really need to know so much?' It made me think: Are these groups really useful to me? Endless chats, arguments, emotionally unintelligent outrageous comments... scrolling through them makes me irritated. I really don't need to fill my life with so many irrelevant messages... The QQ list has become much shorter, much cleaner, hasn't it?

I have always had a bit of social anxiety and social phobia. I dislike when strangers suddenly add me as a friend, and I resist such unfounded friend requests—the other person is neither a friend nor has any official business with me; they just occupy my friend list for no reason. I often fall into regret after approving someone's friend request: I don't really want to establish a connection with them. Socializing is sometimes a difficult problem for me; strangers suddenly intruding into my world makes me feel at a loss and even a bit disgusted. I don't like that feeling of being forced to make small talk and be polite, because I know we will never become true friends.

Not long ago, I played on a Minecraft server with a fairly well-known online friend. At that time, there were only the two of us on the server, and we chatted idly. He suddenly said with emotion: 'I deleted QQ, and finally I don't have to pay attention to any activity on QQ like a yandere.' When I heard this, I was stunned—I understand that feeling too well: always clicking on QQ from time to time, morbidly checking if anyone has sent me a message, if there are new group messages, as if I am expecting something, or maybe just habitually seeking a sense of existence. That friend said he deleted QQ and no longer pathologically obsessed with watching QQ, and I was very envious. This obsession with socializing is like an addiction: knowing that most of the time nothing will happen, but still unable to control opening the phone again and again, just to see that lonely '0 new messages'...

My mindset has always been quite contradictory: on one hand, I often feel lonely and long for company and more social interactions; on the other hand, I am tired of and disgusted by the small talk of acquaintances and ineffective socializing. I crave connection, but I always resist excessive contact—this seems like an ironic paradox. Whenever I am extremely lonely, I desperately hope someone will chat with me, as if that would prove I am alive. However, when someone (especially someone not very familiar) actually approaches me to talk, my vigilance and fatigue rise again—I want to escape or end the conversation. It feels like two selves live inside me: one afraid of being consumed by loneliness, and the other afraid of being overwhelmed by socializing. This tug-of-war makes me feel overwhelmed. I understand why I need to delete those people to lighten my own burden. The pendulum of emotions swings between longing for communication and fearing social interaction, so much so that even I cannot figure out what I want. Deleting those irrelevant contacts at least reduces the burden of dealing with them when my mood is bad; but when I long for communication, facing the empty friend list, I have to accept a reality: they never needed me, and yet I always long for someone to understand me.

From that time on, I began to understand a truth: rather than letting a pile of superficial acquaintances' false feelings fill my life, it is better to earnestly cultivate a few genuine relationships, even if they are pitifully few. The quality of social connections is far more important than quantity. It is a simple truth that I have only now truly realized. I have always feared loneliness, but I have always refused to settle. Those moments of not settling have shaped the person I am now: a clean friend list, and very few people around me.

But the most regrettable thing is that what is lost is never those 'chicken ribs' (things of little value but hard to let go of), but a past that can never return.