As you all know, I’ve been on Twitter and other social media platforms for almost a decade. I’ve had my share of ups and downs on those conduits, with new friendships being created and older ones dying, oftentimes. I’ve also wondered why it was that I used these platforms. Was I seeking friends? Was I seeking fans for my writing and/or various streams of unconscious thoughts? What was I thinking? Was I even thinking?
This post is all about this idea of losing oneself. Hence the title. I won’t repeat the old “I was a loner and had no true friends” diatribe of previous posts, but it’s true. When I jumped on the tweeting bandwagon, I could count my number of friends on one finger. Then, I started tweeting, and slowly, my friendship circle grew. It then became so instrumental in my life that I’d make sure to meet a friend on my various trips.
Then, something happened. The farces became few and far between. Anger and frustration grew, slowly. Self-depreciation, my best nemesis or my worst friend, joined in for the ride on that downhill roller coaster I call life on Twitter. It’s as if I was possibly seeking for fans instead of friends, preferring fame over warmth and friendships. What I didn’t realize (or did realize but was too much of an idiot to do anything to change it) was that the tweets that had no likes or retweets or replies may have struck a chord in the audience. If someone’s having a bad day and they log onto Twitter, seeking a laugh or a hug or what have you and they see yet another of my “what the fuck’s wrong with this cesspool?” offerings, I’d bet all the money in my neighbor’s pocket that their day will be even bleaker.
Was I too meek to defend whatever it was? Was I too much of a fool to realize that I was flying head first into a wall, destroying links that took weeks, months or years to build? Probably. Possibly. Almost certainly.