Why I Tweet
I tweet for one reason and one reason only: to amuse myself. Anyone who knows me in real life will concur with the sentiment that I am not exactly a social, outgoing or exciting person (though they would of course agree that I am a #cool #teen). I’m boring to other people. It has always been a subconscious goal of mine (something that I now realise) to at the very least not be boring to myself. Twitter is a huge part of this.
There are a lot of people with goals different than mine. Some people make their tweets current and “cool” and about things that everyone knows about like pizza or Republicans or politics or music or that superhero person they made a film about. Others just tweet endless jokes with no observations and without revealing any part of their personality. There is the endless stream of “serious” tweeters who tweet about their break-ups with emojis that express the never-ending turmoil of the human condition perfectly. There are the sports people, the weird Twitterers, the Weird Twitterers, the business, professional types who “MUST BE SERIOUS FOR THE GOOD OF CAPITALISM - AND US ALL”, the poetic tweeters who expect to make us cry or think in 140 characters (noble but usually fruitless), the middle class tweeters who tweet about phoney middle class things and many more.
I won’t say I’ve made a lot of friends on Twitter, because I am usually as terrible with people on it as I am in real life, but I have certainly been in contact with a lot of people who I am glad that I now know exist. And there is nothing like feeling that someone, even on the other side of the world, appreciates me for what I am, even if it’s only with the occasional fav.
That is really the point of Twitter for me. I will be what I am - in my own quiet, hermit-like way - in real life: myself. I literally do not care if a tweet I think is brilliant gets 2 favs. That’s two people that thought it was good. Two whole people! Two people who were glad that I typed a bit of my brain into the Twitter box. Of course I love when a tweet I really like goes crazy, but in the end, they are too few to have much of an impact on how I see Twitter. Even if I got no favs and no RTs, even if I literally had zero followers, I would still tweet because, at the very least, it is better than screaming things into a pillow while crying.
There is no doubt in my mind that I will be a failure. Anyone who follows my tweets knows that I’ve written a novel, and I fully expect it (and this is regardless of the quality, which I am proud of) to fail. Because everything fails. I’ve never heard of a successful 22 year old novelist, and if there was, he would be successful because A) he was born rich and his parents are connected to publishing or the world at large somehow, B) he can bullshit people, “network” and convince them that he is the hottest piece of shit since sliced bread or C) he writes weird porn. I am/have done none of those things and so I will fail. I don’t understand things. I can’t tell you what it’s like to fight in a war or climb Everest or get high on an ecstasy injection or a big ol’ cup of marihuana juice. You may find me boring.
But so what? I write and I tweet for my own amusement. And if you like it, good. And if you don’t, fine. Fuck you, you’re just like everyone else. Enjoy your normality. And I’ll amuse myself in my own weird way by writing yet another brilliant tweet about how I have no hope, no jobs and no cash.