In 2009, when I joined what was then known as Twitter, I was bored, working a corporate job, blogging on the side, desperate to be a writer. Twitter made that happen: I posted my writing, gradually people started reading it and eventually some of them asked me to write for them, for money.
Twitter became angrier, louder and more fractious, especially after 2016, when Brexit and Donald Trump ruined things. I skirted online aggro, but increasingly felt I was overhearing hundreds of fights a week, each one provoking a jolt of secondhand stress.
It wasn't fun any more, but I was hooked, chasing that early high, despite dramatically diminishing returns. I would love to say I found the willpower to make a conscious decision to quit; actually, it was thanks to Elon Musk and menopause. Musk's takeover killed any residual buzz.
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