That sounded quite dramatic isn't it?
Well, I don't know, maybe it was the boredom. Or the allure that some of my friends who were loudspoken on Twitter than on Facebook. We seems to easily let our life out on Twitter. I never thought I'd be one but I have. It felt so weird like weird weird kind of weird.
At first, thought it is good and okay thing. That it can be this record of my life. Or simply saying things out "loud". Something like to speak out and stuff. That it was normal. Everyone are doing it. The more I am involved, the further I come to realize that I start to have these moment and then i will be "i'm gonna tweet that".
The more I have these moments and the urge to tweet about it, the more it felt wrong.
We've been to lots of places as walid want us to see the world. Think local only okay? We're not that rich. Eheh.
We have never really been taking pictures. To think about it, walid never owns a camera although he do adventures. We settled down to this admiring places but rarely took any pictures rhythm. Even with the simplicity of a smartphone.
But, everyone were doing it. Taking pictures and telling everyone about it. Some of my friends travel to places and even updates there and then. It felt like the natural thing to do when others were Like-ing it and saying things like "seronoknya" "nak pegi jugak" "you're so lucky" etc etc.
I took pictures. The beauty of places. The occasion of make do family photos. Candid. I have even took those look here we are and we are so happy worthy of a Facebook upload photo. That one however felt so wrong. Whatever the heck in my little heart and mind, it felt like a wrong thing to do. It does not feel natural.
At first I thought that I have been raised not doing that. So it is just a thing I am not used to. The more I think about it, especially realizing how little photos we have before, but we are still so content is that the photos and the Likes and this updating everything was simply not something I need. I just have a very funny way to feel all wrong and it was simply me telling myself, you really don't need to do all of that.
It was so much work really. The need to take a good picture that I think people would like and at the same time showing the world this is how I see it but really it was they way I want you to see me. All the caption or no caption needed. The anticipation of people acknowledgement be it I don't really care but I would still be much affected anyway. Looking back at my Gallery and wondering these photos meant nothing. Looking back at the uploaded photo holding so much more behind it but is never going to be understood by others.
It wasn't me.
So I quit. I am not really giving myself out before. Only this Twitter thingy.
I do post my photo and random quotes because I like to challenge myself for good pictures (i like photography) and quote (i love words more !) and I like to share it. It is something I am passionate about. That were different. This is personal.
My memories and moments. All those things happened in my simple little life. That was all mine and mine alone.
I think i'm just going to be like no more hell bent on pictures and stuff. Only the important things. It wasn't really the pictures that matter. Most importantly it was never having to have this need that I need to share this to the world.
It was the magic in the adventure and the mutual understanding among those whose been there. The knowing of the paramount moments the places gives and the feelings we could share. It was the same joy we have felt and the silence promise to get more. It was really all the mind trick.
Just fyi, I am not deactivating my Twitter. It simply went back to its most primal duties.
Besides, i got my blog to pour my hearts out. Those word limitation in Twitter is ridiculous.
Mine is riding on my LinkedIn so whatever I posted there, got posted on Twitter too. And my blog.
ReplyDeleteI think i have linkedln account somehow. But i never really knoe about it. I recently linked my blog to twitter. So now every update went to twitter. Kind of so much twitter for me huh.
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