I miss Twitter. But if I come back, it will only mean that you cannot take me seriously after this. What’s the point of a 48-hour hike if I’m feeling the same as I did about it?
I still say I miss them all. I got way too used to typing in everything that is on my mind there. How strange is that? Expecting everyone to listen to your twisted wants and thoughts. And sometimes, letting them in inside the clandestine corners of your lust.
I do that on my blog but it’s little less exposing, somehow. Somehow, from a distance, I feel mentally ill. An attention disorder I never had has risen and how.
I love twitter, but hate what I made of it.
Think about it. Do you do that too?
I will wait till I miss it less.
And someone tell Squirrel he is adorable. On twitter and off it.