So I recently wrapped a week of no Twitter. I’ve been back two days, and now I’m about to go off for another five days.
Why?
Well, because Twitter is an unhappiness factory. Truly, it is. It sucks you in, makes you mean and rude and inconsiderate. It fools you into thinking you have a unique voice that people need to hear. When, in truth, you don’t have a unique voice, and it doesn’t need to be heard. At all.
Twitter fooled me. It had me believing I could use it to do good; to convince people Donald Trump is bad and Joe Biden (or whoever) is good. It had me thinking my sports observations are on point and special. It’s like an important drug. It takes people like me—with little of value to contribute—and turns us (well, me) into nonstop fountains of drivel, spewing our bullshit to the same listeners. Over and over and over again.
It doesn’t make you well-informed. Or even slightly in the know.
I enjoy it, in doses.
But, more than anything, it’s ruined me.
Or at least robbed me of some dignity.
