At my undergrad, we had a secret society that recognized members of our campus every semester. Let's call it ZZZ. As is the case with most secret societies, ZZZ membership was secret.

My junior year of college, I decided to make ZZZ a Twitter account. No, I was not part of the secret society. I just realized they lacked social media presence, so why not give back?

Our first tweet (our being just me representing this secret society I had no affiliation with) was, "We're watching you." Someone retweeted it. Fool.

We then tweeted, "Congratulations to the people we recognized today!" I had to feign a bit of legitimacy. Then I went on a following spree.

The night after I made the Twitter, I ran into my friend at the grocery store. She excitedly told me, "ZZZ followed me on Twitter! Do you think I'm going to get recognized?"

Me: "No way! That's so cool! I didn't know they had a Twitter."

Several days later, we needed to maintain legitimacy and act somewhat benevolent, so we tweeted, "Remember to keep your school spirit alive even in the stress of finals!" and "Let us know what acts of kindness you see around campus and what you want to see happening!" As if I had that power. Brb, just gonna call up my fellow members.

Eventually people started tweeting at me - I guess because they believed I was actually the secret society. #ForTheWin

One person said: "Thank you so much to ZZZ for validating what I do, giving back will never leave you with less #touched #inspired #makeadifference" Aw.

Tricia tweeted us: "I've done so much research to figure out how to become a part of this prestigious group and have gotten nowhere. Almost a senior!" Girl, just make them an Instagram.

The worst I ever did with the Twitter was promote when a prominent student organization on our campus would be choosing members. Alas, this prominent organization was known for its snobbish selection process (okay, I'm biased): On the second Wednesday of the spring semester, they would either come find you to publicly celebrate your acceptance - or they would tape a big fat rejection letter to your door so everyone knew you didn't get in. I guess they've never heard of email?

They thought this night was some secret. "No one knows when we're coming," I imagine them whispering to themselves as they throw on cloaks. (They didn't wear cloaks.) Except if you had a memory, you'd realize every year it was the second Wednesday of the spring semester.

So what did ZZZ tweet? "This Wednesday, a lot of big announcements are going to be made" followed by, "Let's just say, keep your doors open tomorrow. You don't want to find a letter on it at the end of the day."

It wasn't a total callout.

Otherwise, I was a fairly ethical proprietor of the Twitter. I retweeted stuff about student org nights, community service events, and congratulations whenever my secret society recognized people. (I never identified how they chose who they recognized or what night they did it on - because I didn't know.) Okay, and I heavily retweeted and favorited stuff done by the two organizations I was president of. It always amazed me no one guessed who was behind the Twitter.

In fact, I worried the secret society would find me. They weren't known for entombing people in walls or throwing acid, but ya never know. I doubt anyone had ever infiltrated them before like I did. However, only once was I contacted: A student government leader direct messaged me, "Please delete this account. ZZZ is a prestigious group that honors dedicated people on this campus. This is not helping their good cause." But I'm not hurting it either . . . .

Anyway, it's time to give up my front. My friend discovered my secret the other day when she saw, among my seven email accounts, one was ZZZ's.

My friend: "Were you in it?!"

Me: " . . . No. Oops." *Lena Dunham Shrug*

So last night I issued my last tweet: "It's coming." As of this morning, it has two favorites.