The film

Why I left Facebook

The first time I tried to sign up to Facebook, I had a lot of questions.

Did I have an account?

Would I be banned?

Would it be worth the trouble?

When I clicked on a link to get started, I was taken to a page I’d never seen before.

Facebook’s new “My Account” page features a picture of my face, with my name and phone number, alongside a note that says, “Please verify your age before using this feature.”

After signing up, I clicked a link in a blue box and was taken immediately to the “Sign Up” screen.

There, I typed in my name, my phone number and my email address.

I clicked “Continue” and was asked to log in.

After logging in, I checked my information.

I was told I had to check my Facebook account for an age verification, then I was redirected to the login page.

It was just one of many steps I had taken to get on Facebook.

I had never signed up for Facebook, but it was clear that I would have to do so soon.

As a young woman, I spent hours each day on Facebook, reading the stories and commenting on the friends that I liked.

At times, I felt like a voyeur, watching someone else interact with me.

I thought it would be cool to be able to follow people’s lives and find out what they were thinking, feeling and doing on their accounts.

I could see the possibilities of Facebook, where people could connect and share their thoughts, feelings and hopes.

But Facebook’s newest feature was a step too far for me.

The “My Accounts” page is one of several features that Facebook introduced that would force me to use a third-party app.

(The others are “Like” and “Pin” that require a third party app.)

I had been promised that I’d be able see friends, posts and news from my friends, but I was not given an opportunity to do that.

In fact, Facebook’s announcement of the feature came two weeks after I’d tried to join my Facebook friends and family and posted a photo of myself with a smiley face on the My Facebook page.

I couldn’t get on my own.

I finally saw my face on my My Facebook profile, with a picture that read, “My account is available.”

Facebook’s response to my photo was to block me.

Facebook blocked me.

Why was this happening?

In an age of fake news and misinformation, I couldn, in my own mind, believe that Facebook’s latest “My accounts” feature was about to turn me into a creepy voyeur.

I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I began a Facebook group to ask friends, family and coworkers about the feature and to document its negative impact on my privacy.

My group included friends from my previous life, people who had not seen Facebook in several years and people who were very vocal about their frustration with Facebook’s “My” account feature.

I also included people from different industries and professions, as well as people who knew someone who had a Facebook account.

Over the next few months, Facebook deleted all of my photos, removed my personal information, deleted my photos from the Facebook website and blocked my personal profile on Facebook altogether.

My account was not allowed to be used for anything else on Facebook except for “sign-up,” “friends,” “pics” and messages.

I tried several times to log into my Facebook and Twitter accounts and no one could get through to me.

“Why didn’t Facebook tell me I could get on?”

I asked friends who were not involved in the Facebook group.

Why didn’t they tell me that it would soon be time to get off?

I even tried logging in to my Google+ account and Facebook.

None of them were able to get through.

Why did Facebook make my account “My Facebook” instead of “My My” when it should have been a “My profile” page?

What did Facebook think it was doing?

The fact that my account was “My FB” when I tried logging into it should tell me something about how Facebook’s software is designed and how it is implemented.

I don’t want to believe that it’s an oversight.

But the fact that Facebook would make my Facebook page look like my Facebook profile page just doesn’t make sense.

Facebook, as a company, is trying to solve a real problem.

I wanted to find out how Facebook makes the decision to make a particular photo look like a particular profile picture.

The first question I asked was why was my profile picture “My Instagram” instead when I could have “My Face” or “My Twitter”?

My profile picture is an image of my name.

It’s not something that you can share with others or make public.

My profile photo is a photo I take every day.

It is, essentially, a picture you take every single day.

Facebook doesn’t have a way of knowing what you look like, where you live or what you’re thinking.

It just knows that your profile picture