Whenever somebody tells me to guard something with my life I ask what's in the bag, because I'm not staking my life for anything less than an iPod.
My Twitter is a good thing to tell your friends to follow. Maybe not your best friends, but like, that guy that overheard you planing a party and kinda had to invite to not feel like a dick. Those are my people.
When I was a kid my psychiatrist diagnosed me with schizophrenia, so you can imagine how I got really paranoid when my brother insisted that I didn't have a psychiatrist. But as it turned out, my brother suffered from a rare case of pre-adolescent Alzheimer's. Also he didn't exist.
I'm better now though, but I'm still uncertain to if my Twitter account is real or a schizophrenic figment of mine.