In November of 2007, most likely sitting inside an East Nashville Panera Bread location, I first signed on to Twitter. Last weekend, I deactivated my account.

During the years in-between, my profile has been a professional and personal asset, used equally as a promotional tool for current projects, a platform for offering advice to fellow creatives, a megaphone for healthcare advocacy, and a networking tool often used to sustain early stage business relationships. Friends may sign in to Facebook daily, but in every way, I preferred Twitter.

Recently, my relationship with the network became strained by a lack of everything I once valued: the ability to read only tweets (and re-tweets) from accounts I followed, in reverse-chronological order, was being replaced by a focus on “topics,” while CEO Jack Dorsey admitted that he has zero interest in censoring white supremacist content. These decisions and comments eroded their users’ trust, mine especially. Add in a clear look at the outrage machine that Twitter’s modern platform has become, where accounts who thrive on discontent contort language to misrepresent your intentions, and it was all too much for this longtime user.

Will I fill out a Mastodon profile with tiny missives? Probably not, but only time will tell. Until then, anything I have to say can, and will be said here; a considered longform venue. All I know is this: in an age where liars scream deceptions from the rooftops and truth is nearly silent, two hundred eighty characters isn’t enough for me.