As a past follower of Marie Le Conte (AKA the Young Vulgarian) on X, I read her column on leaving the platform with interest, complete empathy and self-reflection (To anybody still using X: sexual abuse content is the final straw, it’s time to leave, 12 January).
I joined X – or rather, Twitter – in 2007 after reading a Guardian article on the five next hit websites. Needless to say, most of the others have been forgotten. I was bored in my uni halls and it sounded the most interesting.
In those days one could sit and watch the global feed – every tweet being posted in the world – with notable seconds between posts. I conversed with an American cat-lover and sometimes no other tweets would appear between our replies to one another.
Over the years I curated my following list. It became an invaluable tool. I shared interesting policy blogs or academic articles at work, which helped my career. I always had a clip of a football goal or intelligence on train delays. I bragged about my PR-damaging tweets that would make customer service teams do a volte-face.
At least, I convinced myself it was an invaluable tool. As Marie suggested, more recently I had entered a spiral of dopamine-chasing doom-scrolling. After Grok began enabling abuse of women and girls, one of my friends questioned why I was on the platform. My partner had questioned me for years. “For work, football and train updates” started as a genuine excuse but soon sounded hollow.
Last Wednesday I deactivated my account. It felt like a moment. I was dreading how I would feel the next day. After proudly announcing to different friendship groups and my partner, and being praised and told it will be good for my health, I felt better. Now I don’t even miss it and it’s as if it never happened. A very strange dream that, on reflection, became a nightmare.
Sam Nair
Whitley Bay, Tyne and Wear
