I am only into my 7th day and I realise just how much twitter is integrated into my life. I ironed for the first time in years and I wanted to tweet about it. I finally got my full blazing internet back AND I bought razors so my underarm is shaven and smooth again. Neither could I rave about. Somewhere, in a backward town in Anambra, girls are being attacked for wearing trousers. I am not raving about that. Things happen and I want to privately vent or be nasty or be catty. I can't. I am forced to think it. Pretend I'm sending a tweet in my head, hit send and just move on.
Another thing I've seen is no one has noticed I'm gone. I am actually sitting waiting hoping to see when and who will first notice that I have gone silent. I need reminding that I am dispensable. And that the world doesn't really care. I have been becoming a little too full of myself lately. The impending reality check will do me some good.
And good Lord, I completely forgot: so many comebacks I have had to swallow. The pain of not being able to tweet a response is so real. Especially when you've found yourself a real zinger. Oh well.
I'm hoping this will help me blog more. As you can see, I am so used to twitter, writing full paragraphs filled with interesting sentences are now beyond my ability. Let's hope for more.
I finished out the month. Went back on twitter. No one noticed my absence nor my return. Not even me. I just went back to tweeting my errant nonsense. I am proud of the way I refrained from using Facebook as an outlet though. Go me.
1 comment:
Inco,
I will so not fogive you if I leave this obodo oyibo called amelika and I dont get to see ya face or ya fois at least.
I swear, I go haunt you for dream o plus including nightmare join.
I don talk me own.
Signed.
ManCee
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