The close, foetid galleries of Facebook

In the opening pages of "Cloudstreet", Tim Winton makes an observation about death, and thinking about your loved ones, whose lives continue without you- "And you can't help but worry for them, love them, want for them - those who go on down the close, foetid galleries of time ad space without you."
In many ways, I can draw a parallel to that of my abstinence from FB. I think about this foetid stench, whose excrement is posted daily in a "mini-feed"- a misleading name if ever there was. There is nothing 'mini' about it for me at the moment. Every posting had the potential to feature a name which would pull at my heartstrings, a name which I couldn't see without feeling a deep impact, caused by loss and pain and the absence of a huge part of my life.
No, today I was perfectly happy to let my loved ones live their lives and for the passage of time to occur without me. One less world to devote my energy too, and an unnecessary one at that.
I am, however, suffering from a dilemma. My birthday is March 31st. If I stick to my guns, it would mean that all the people in that "gallery of space and time" otherwise known as Facebook will not see that it is my birthday and I won't get all those "Happy Birthday" wishes on my wall, which always make me feel so good. Here's one I'm going to sit on for the next few weeks.