There's no better platform to mask your depression than Twitter. The self-serving, ineffective sneak dissing that floods the timeline isn't always consistent with the resentful, morose people behind the avatars. Posturing on the Internet isn't anything new. Who hasn't posted phony shit online at some point in their lives to camouflage emotional wounds? But usually it's reserved for insecure, callow teenagers. We all do trifling shit when we're young, that's just part of growing up. However, when someone's in their mid-twenties with a career, bills and presumably a lit group chat with the squad, why spend precious time and energy continually sending shots online? It makes you look like a goofy.

But there's an explanation for the petty, insufferable subliminals being thrown around #onhere: dejection. People are agitated with their own existence. Maybe it's because of their shitty, corporate job, an ex who's got them vexed or maybe they just came out of their mother's womb a crotchety asshole. So, instead of moving on with their lives, they log on to Twitter Dot Com, post some useless, tired shit alluding to the person they resent and for a brief moment, their pain subsides. I got bad news, though: You look hurt and lame.

I'm not innocent in all of this, either. I've definitely used the Internet to mask emotional wounds too. Back in 6th grade, I was dating one of the baddest, most popping girls in our class. Everyone was trying to smash—real life Regina George shit. One day, I go over to her locker, probably to try to slide into second base before class, and in front of her whole squad she says, "You're so annoying. Like, every time I turn around you're right there. I need space, Brian. I want to date someone else." She didn’t even hit me with the "let's see other people." Clearly she had the next dude already on deck, which made me feel even worse. Honestly, that was one of the top three most embarrassing moments in my life. But the way I responded was the corniest.

I became obsessed with shorty and made it my full-time job to try and eviscerate her character online. Whenever she would post some cliché 6th grade quote like "Live, love, laugh" as her AIM away message, I would immediately respond with "Fuck 'em and leave 'em" or "Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks, lick on these nuts and suck the dick." Mind you, I was a moronic 11-year-old at the time. I had never had my nuts licked or my dick sucked and there's no way I knew what "trick" even meant. But I was hurt and, because I was young, with limited life skills and dial-up, I thought posting sexist rap lyrics online would make me feel better. Full disclosure, that break up had me fucked up for months, even though I pretended not to care.

Of course, none of this affected her at all. The Internet trash-talking, the scathing e-mails I sent, the chauvinistic MySpace posts I put up was all senseless bullshit I did because I was miserable. Meanwhile, she kept on Regina George-ing. In fact, all of the shade I threw made her more irresistible. I thought my subs would dismantle her ego, but I ended up creating a monster. Right now, I'm sure she's somewhere in a happy relationship with a seven figure job, just as unconcerned with my wack ass as she was back then.

It's a known fact that publicly trashing someone only benefits them. Before Twitter, when the media was lambasting Eminem for rapping about killing his wife and using drugs on the Slim Shady LP, he came back with the Marshall Mathers LP, 8 Mile, multiple Grammys, an Oscar and was eventually the best-selling artist of the entire fucking decade. Of course, he would've spazzed regardless, but calling him a wigger and a sexist on the radio only made him that much more of a savage. Eminem wasn't lying when he said, "But I'm glad because they feed me the fuel that I need for the fire to burn, and it's burning and I have returned." The media thought they were slick in trying to expose Em and now he's so untouchable that he wins Grammys for trash albums.

This primarily digital sneak dissing behavior that adults engage in today is wild corny, wasting valuable time and energy sub-tweeting someone like it's a paying 9-5. Why talk shit online about an old friend or an ex or the whoever the fuck has you so in your feelings? There's better shit to do with your life. Go to the gym and get your body right for cuffing season. Design some fire T-shirts and sell them shits online. Listen to 2Pac’s The Don Killuminati: 7 Day Theory and Ice Cube's AmeriKKKa’s Most Wanted on repeat to thoroughly master the art of character assassination. Or I guess you can continue to act like butthurt baby and subtweet people who probably aren't even thinking about you.

Brian Padilla is a writer living in Boston. You can follow him on Twitter here.