If Twitter Responded To Abuse Reports Honestly

I spend too much time on Twitter. And, frankly, it’s awful. Every day is like wading through a sea of poop to try and find a cupcake, and even when you find that, it’s like, “Well, I can’t possibly eat this cupcake. It’s covered in poop.

As a writer, Twitter becomes a sort of necessary evil. It becomes the conduit by which I and others share our work, by which I poll people outside of my immediate social circle for ideas, how I try to foment interest in a new project, and where I learn how to properly use words like “foment.”

It also is a total waste of time, and for someone with a history of fucking brain tumors, I should really know better. I spend hours on Twitter – and online in general – every day. At the same time that I argue that I don’t have time

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