A Eulogy for Twitter

It’s November 3rd, 2022. Tomorrow, on Friday, Elon Musk will probably fire just about everybody who worked at Twitter.

People have seen the writing on the wall for a while. The tech sector, being what it is, sees Elon as a primary evil. There are some who have even gone to great lengths to get fired spectacularly, it would seem. I have read. Because it’s a purity test; it’s moral virtue signaling, for they. But that’s another story.

Twitter and I have had a complex relationship almost directly from the start. Over the years, I’ve sought to make them play by their own rules. They rarely, if ever, did. Still, I never stopped trying.

Well, it’s the end. That much is clear to see. If Elon is keeping to a schedule, I’ll be Verified for $8 in about 4 days. But we’ll see about that.

It doesn’t really matter. The site, as it was, as it has been— as it should be— is gone.

People I knew on the site started moving away from it years ago. I knew somebody for about 12 years; never learned her name. Thought that we’d eventually become closer as friends. We talked occasionally. Well, she’s had a baby, and now she doesn’t use the site anymore. So much for that idea.

Other people are my friends in theory, but we rarely, if ever, talk anymore. The site is dead. I’m not even sure if most of these people would want to talk to me on Discord.

I know what it is. It’s my personality. Try as I might to try to make myself palatable, I know that I’m not. I think it’s something with writers. Or maybe it’s just me. My personality is something that does not mesh well with others. And so, I’ve had to choose to either mask myself; or, to reveal myself.

In masking, I gain false friends. In revealing myself, I lose these false friends. And you don’t really get too many real friends. I have enough. But I would’ve liked more, after 12 goddamned years.

As for Twitter, nobody who worked there deserved this. Not even the person who kept me from getting Verified. Because, honestly— Verification was stupid. It was all fucking stupid.

I remember one time when a person on Twitter threatened to come to my house and shoot me. And, like that automated police robot that tells people to go away, before it goes jaunting off, singing a merry little tune, a named moderator (the moderators used to be named; did you know?) told me: Not a threat. And closed the fucking ticket.

I think that’s what I’ll always remember Twitter as being: a place that claimed to play by all the rules, but it never actually did. Why it never did, I can’t say. I can say; but, it’s a bit too dreary for me, at this current juncture.

There’s no real going anywhere anymore. I am too old to make friends, and I do not want to go through the same old ‘raising your numbers’ social media toil, any longer. I am too depressed for that.

At one time, I had a million views on Vine.

At one time, I had over a hundred thousand followers on all my Twitter accounts.

If Twitter goes, outside of my YouTube channel, I don’t have much. I have tens of thousands of readers; and for that, I’m grateful. Thank you.

But I feel so hollow inside. Seeing it end like this.

And not for my sake. It had to end sometime.

I just don’t fucking like endings.

The Twitter employees, who will be fired, I would say maliciously, in a malicious manner, are being fired through e-mail. Elon is torturing them. He hates them, I think. He bought Twitter just to snuff its life out.

I don’t think people should be allowed to do such a thing.

Interestingly, until today, I used to attribute most of the bad things that happened in the World to things that I did. And when I realized that I was doing this with the Twitter purchase, I suddenly realized— girl, this has nothing to do with you. Nothing at all.

I find it comical that I would ultimately have nothing to do with the destruction of this platform. I always figured that my presence was deleterious. Now I know it’s not. Not naturally; as way of course, by my very breathing.

I cannot even say that I caused this situation to happen by proxy. I did not manufacture the circumstances for which these things occurred. I have nothing to do with Elon Musk. Even through my powers of magical thinking, I cannot attribute this crime to mine own behavior. I think I am relatively innocent, here.

I used to think that I killed Arcadium. I used to think that, in some narcissistic burst of rage— upon realizing that I was losing touch with my friends, and that we were all growing older, and I feared that they would choose to abandon me— that I wished Arcadium into dying. Or, by some twist of fate, my behavior on the platform ultimately killed it. Now I realize what’s right.

I didn’t do shit. In fact, through course of my abuse, I was indoctrinated into thinking that I had the magickal power to ruin anything. Simply by being there.

I didn’t wish it all to end. I wanted it to last forever.

I was powerless. And I was innocent.

And the same goes for right now.

I can’t stop Twitter from dying.

And, thankfully, I did not cause it.

Hopefully, the people that Elon is torturing and abusing through these malicious firing processes will find bigger and better opportunities.

I didn’t like the management of Twitter.

But none of you deserved this horrible treatment.

I’m so sorry.