MY TWITTER: DEAD AT 13

…which is why I’ll be deleting my account this Friday.

I realized this fact today only because Twitter sent me a notification congratulating me on this supposedly glorious milestone. Unfortunately, it backfired, because seeing that number made me feel sick to my stomach.

Thirteen years is a long time. Thirteen years ago, I was still living in a house in Milwaukee with my girlfriend and a roommate. Mr. Fabulous was my only pet, and she was essentially still just a puppy.

Since joining Twitter, I moved to L.A. with my girlfriend (and adopted two cats, Meatshake and Heisenberg). My girlfriend became my wife, then a few years later the mother of our two children. We moved to Chicago and bought our first place together, and adopted three more cats: Exhibit Q; Bad Guy, and Robot. Sadly, Meatshake, Mr. Fabulous, and Exhibit Q have now all left us.

Over the past thirteen years, friends and family have gotten married and divorced. They’ve welcomed newborn babies into their lives, and some of them have died far too young. (The friends and family, not the newborn babies.)

So yeah, a lot can happen in thirteen years.

And that got me thinking: Over the past thirteen years, how much time have I killed on Twitter? So I did some math.

For the sake of argument, let’s say I spent, on average, five minutes a day on Twitter. It’s probably a lot more than that, but let’s just say five minutes for some easy math. Five minutes a day is 1,825 minutes a year. Multiple that by thirteen years and you get 23,725 minutes. Divide that by 60 and you get just shy of 400 hours. Divide that by 24 and you get 16.5 days of nonstop Twitter scrolling.

I’ll round that up to 17 days, but I’m sure the actual, more accurate number would be more than double that. Maybe even triple.

That’s 17 days I could’ve spent doing literally anything else. Playing with my kids, listening to music, taking photos, writing, traveling, calling some of those friends and family on the phone and having an actual conversation. You can do a lot of shit with an extra 17 days.

The thought of hitting my 15th or 20th or 25th Twitter anniversary scares the shit out of me. How many more minutes and hours and days can I waste if I stay?

But that’s just part of it. The other part — the bigger part of it, to be honest — is that, like Facebook, I hate who I am on Twitter.

Many of you know I’m quick to let assholes know they’re assholes, and I don’t suffer fools gladly. But the question I’m constantly asking myself is, do I have to? And the answer is always the same: nah, it’s not worth it. They’re not worth it.

So yeah… thirteen years seems like a good time to take a bow and exit the stage.

So thanks to Twitter for reminding me about just how much of my life I’ve wasted on its platform. I couldn’t have pulled the plug without you.

Two social media platforms down, one to go,

-Shady