For the last two days, my friend Shelby's Facebook post has been sitting at the top of my news feed. "Jonestown sun with a Manson Fam rising and a Source Family moon," it says. "Venus is clearly in FLDS." It's a very good status update—better, I would say, than 99 percent of what rolls across my feed. Still, I've already read it once, and I'm not sure I need to see it every time I log on to Facebook (sorry, Shelby). And yet, there it is, stubbornly perched at the top of my news feed. As far as user experience goes, I would rank this somewhere between "the server forgot my drink" and "salmonella poisoning." It won't kill me, but it doesn't make me want to go back, either.

Facebook is broken, and there are plenty of reasons for deleting it from your life: Besides the whole Cambridge Analytica scandal, it's become exceedingly clear in the past year that Facebook is bad for democracy, it's bad for society, it's bad for business, and, perhaps the most compelling argument, it's bad for us as human beings. Research shows that social media in general, and Facebook in particular, makes users less happy than we were before these websites infiltrated our lives. I get that, and I think the world (but maybe not the bus, the toilet, or the line at the grocery store) would be a far better place if we all burned our smartphones and our social-media apps right this second. And yet, while my current news feed (south of Shelby's post) is full of people claiming that they are about to disengage from Facebook for good, I will not be among them. At least not yet.

Once upon a time, Facebook was a place to go to connect with friends, find events, catch up on news, stalk high-school crushes, and waste time at work. And it was the best place of all for self-promotion. As a writer, Facebook drove most of the traffic to my work, both from business accounts like The Stranger (follow us!) and from my own page (follow me!). But now Facebook does none of these things. Instead of serving content I care about, my news feed typically goes like this:

Top post: An eight-year-old photo with someone who didn't vote in the 2016 election because Bernie was robbed. Do I want to share this? No, I do not.
Next 10 posts: Buzzfeed Tasty videos interspersed with high-school acquaintances and old friends' parents copying and pasting reminders that someone out there loves you so don't cut yourself.
Next 10 posts: More Buzzfeed Tasty videos interspersed with five friends sharing the same Teen Vogue article on how to be a good ally.
Next 10 posts: More Buzzfeed Tasty videos interspersed with former colleagues and distant cousins notifying me of their intention to delete Facebook. Not today, but tomorrow. Maybe.

Thanks to Facebook's fickle algorithm, none of these posts will be in chronological order, which makes Facebook a terrible source for news and information. If I want to find out what is happening right now (or even this week), I'm better off turning on the radio than I am checking Facebook. Besides this massive flaw, engagement with my own posts has dropped precipitously. Facebook used to drive the majority of the traffic to my work; now it drives almost none. So if it's not good for news, it's not good for actually connecting with friends, and it's not good for self-promotion, why am I not on Team #DeleteFacebook?

Groups. That's why. Facebook is hands down the number one best place to find dramatic, combustible, rage-filled groups, and that, for no other reason, is why I stay.

My favorite Facebook groups are Queer Exchanges. Most big cities have them, and they all follow the same predictable evolution: What begins as a group for buying, selling, and trading goods, services, and information quickly devolves into a conflagration of backstabbing, infighting, and all around juicy drama. The Seattle Queer Exchange, in particular, is famously toxic, with people being banned just for "liking" the wrong post. My all-time favorite Seattle Queer Exchange post was from last year, when a gay man in the group posted something like "Hey, I thought this group was about selling stuff? Why is everyone always talking about racism?" He was immediately reamed for this (and not in a good way), and after the hundredth comment calling him anti-black, the original poster dropped in a photo of himself and his husband, both of whom are actually black. "I'm not anti-black," he wrote. "I love the skin I'm in." It was fantastic.

Unfortunately, the trigger-happy mods of SQE kicked me out after I had the gall to write about people who detransition, so these days I get my kicks from the Queer Exchanges in other cities, which, unfortunately, are calm and reasonable compared to Seattle's.

So that's why I stay. Even though I know, cognitively, that Facebook is bad for me, I just love the drama too much to give it up. That said, there will be a tipping point. When enough users delete Facebook and my beloved groups stop yelling at each other all night and all day, any reason to stay on Facebook will, for me, evaporate. And when that point comes, it won't be all that difficult to get my daily fix of drama and intrigue elsewhere: I'll just head over to Twitter and check in on @RealDonaldTrump.