When we were new, there was seemingly nothing Twitter and I couldn’t do together. I remember right after first downloading Twitter, it was always waiting for me to run my sweet, supple fingers over the protective screen of my iPhone, which guarded the app from the consequences of any users’ affection, overindulgence and, ultimately, lust. A method of self sustaining yet equally one of self loathing, stealthily employed by Twitter to protect itself from the emotional hurdles of true rejection and heartbreak. But of course, no one could protect it from the results of one’s infiltration of these walls; even one swift crack in the structure, and hell, the floodgates open. In other words — things got dirty as hell.
While Twitter’s heartbreak is meaningful, neither of us could get out of this unscathed. So I guess this is a story of the relationship between Twitter and me. One that became toxic, or perhaps one that was unhealthy since the beginning. I don’t know, you be the judge.
Looking back, the way I once indulged in Twitter’s need for validation and acceptance in the beginning of our relationship could not bode well for our future. I mean, I was on good ol’ Twitter all the time, twiddling with it from morning until night. Just the act of opening Twitter would bring a smile to my face. And when I delved deep — I mean really deep — it brought me a sense of giddiness and pleasure that I would eventually find harder and harder to acquire without its presence. A whole supernova of serotonin bursting at my fingertips, inevitably etching Twitter’s words into mind, injecting my mundane non-virtual life with a world of vibrance and humor that was readily available whenever I looked down. What more could one want, really?
But I guess that was it. That was where and why we were doomed to end. Where could we go if we already had everything? Nowhere but down, nowhere but confusion and sorrow and and horrific typos and 80 IQ territory. I mean, we got to the point where Twitter made me promise visits to my friends’ Instagram and Snapchat accounts only once a day, with the rest of my time devoted solely to Twitter. But of course I loved making Twitter happy. So I stayed, even when things started to get a little … f*cking ridiculous.
Okay, now can I just say — Twitter is, like, actually insane?!? I mean, how can someone actually think it’s okay to make a random, slightly attractive guy named Alex go completely viral when he’s with someone else? Does anyone else see how messed up it is to flaunt his millions of likes right in your significant other’s face? Twitter has done things like this a countless number of times. How can someone as unremarkable as this “Damn, Daniel” guy get on Ellen and obtain a lifetime supply of free Vans because of Twitter, while Twitter can’t even guarantee ONE of my friends will like my post?
I brought these concerns to Twitter and felt like I was just screaming into the void. I’m not proud of it, but I even got to the point of buying followers just to get Twitter’s attention. Well, it worked. Twitter started posting all of these photos in which I was cropped out of the frame, and then would caption it something slanderous like “When you catch your man naked in bed with a groupie... I look better without him on my shoulder.”
At this point, I was having serious doubts about us. Sure, Twitter still made me laugh, but it also knew how to get on my very last nerve. So when I voiced my worry to my Twitter timeline that it was a “breeding ground for idiots,” Twitter upped the ante by proving to me just how stupid it could get. It started spouting things like “if you’re not transcending with someone else’s energy, they’re in your toxic circle.” It produced more and more dangerously idiotic posts like this, until finally I decided I had to delete the app altogether so as to protect my last remaining brain cells. Of course, I still saved the link on my browser so that I could check up on Twitter every once in awhile, because, as much as I hate to admit it, I still care about Twitter. And obviously, I also need to make sure it’s still a crazy b*tch.
And she most definitely is. I mean, did you see what she let Donald Trump tweet today? How could I ever have let that damned Twitter into my heart?
Erin Clancy is a Humor Columnist for The Cavalier Daily. She can be reached at humor@cavalierdaily.com.
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