With each unfollow I get on Twitter,
my heart dies a little. This is my
third go around here

and every time I say I’m just
going to follow publishing houses
and not get caught up

in the middleschoolness of it all,
but every time I find myself
on my couch, sputtering, wounded,

seeking reasons for my unpopularity
here when I am a frigging hit on Facebook,
and wondering yet again if this is just

not my bag, man. It’s never been my
bag. It’s not as if I don’t know my way
around this internet, this pissing match

for the incontinent, this strange place where
John Cusack can block you if you
correct his grammar, and where

Tila Tequila can claim that the Illuminati
gave her a brain aneurysm and

And while that’s so crazy it’s sort
of awesome, I feel as though Twitter
is the lone novelty holiday sock

in a drawer full of matched pairs
in my internet bureau. I don’t know
why the hell it’s in there.

One response to “who.unfollowed.me

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