Twitter collapsed on Saturday. When I expressed my dismay, some random dick criticised me for being so emotionally invested in an app and basically told me to get a life, and this ill-tempered sniping at feelings you do not understand has come to sum it up. There was no longer any point in trying to explain to someone who won’t listen that it’s not just an app? To me, it’s community.

I was there years ago where it was fun and whimsy-filled and full of laugh-out-loud. It soothed my loneliness and gave me a voice when nobody else heard me. It was fun. We had fun. And then it became my main source of news and information and comment and opinion. Before the misunderstandings and anger and sadness and disappointment set in. Before we started searching for and expecting deeper truths from people on an app. Before it became a disappointing forum for ad hominem and insulting simplism, as epitomised by the mansplaining random dick, by all of them. Maybe that’s an indictment of how the world has moved on since I was first on there in 2009. 

Being unceremoniously and unilaterally dumped mid-conversation was devastating.  After all those years of getting to know each other, and forming close, lasting friendships. The quirks and foibles. The public private jokes. The hashtag games.  My life on Twitter finally seemed at an end. And then it came back. But for how long? I no longer have much faith in what has become Elon’s personal fiefdom. Like a boyfriend who calls you again after a “break” you’re never sure whether he’s re-thought his approach or whether it’s just a booty call.

What replaces Twitter? The quiet, respectful, beige serenity of the elephant? It’s wholesome and kind but the edge is missing. I suppose it is what we make it. We are still the same people after all. I wonder whether passion can co-exist with extreme respect. I think it’s worth a try.