Cutting Twitter

I can’t remember the last time reading Twitter made me happy. It’s been even longer since I’d wanted to post anything. I wasn’t using it as a communication device. It didn’t seem to serve any purpose beyond letting me see people yell at one another over things I used to like.

I had a Twitter account from early 2008. I had killed that account during the US election in 2016. I opened up another one earlier this year, in hopes that I could at least contain political rhetoric and just follow people I liked. But it didn’t work. Trump ruined twitter, and the people who run Twitter seem fine with this.

Here’s a nice run-down of Twitter is bad” articles, largely here for my own needs, just in case I’m tempted to go back:

Finally, perhaps the best paragraph about quitting Twitter I’ve ever read, from Fluxblog:

Is any of this still fun? And what are we getting out of this, besides new ways to feel anxious, insecure, or unsafe? I personally ran into this wall with Twitter, and have stopped reading and participating in that platform altogether. At first it was because I was tired of constantly checking a timeline that was increasingly packed with paranoia, dread, anguish, and in the worst moments, outright hysteria. But once I stopped reading the stuff, I stopped writing tweets as well. I didn’t anticipate how freeing that would be. Twitter is a platform that rewards anger and negativity, so even my fairly benign presence took on a snippy, aggrieved tone. The platform subtly encouraged my worst impulses, but I’ve found that once I stopped having an outlet and audience for bitchy little thoughts, I stopped having so many bitchy little thoughts. I’m better for it, and so is anyone else. No one needs this from me. No one needs this from the vast majority of people.

Hopefully it sticks this time.


June 19, 2018