Lost Love Evocation

Right now, I'm on my day off, and I'm still itching to be back at work. When I come home, I feel alone, even after spending the day with buddies. I have a couple good pals right now, but no real friends. No shoulder to lean on.

Something's lacking, but it's something new, some hole I don't quite understand and don't know how to fill. I'm pleased that I've finally started to get over my childish aversion to work, but it feels more like a symptom - an escape, an abjuration of the 5 to 9 portion of my life.

Epikairekakia

My web browsing experience would be improved threefold if I could find a way to stop myself from reading comments. I devour an article and, unsated, go to the comments so that I may have my dessert. My gluttony deserves punishment, but no crime is worth the dip into molten ignorance that the average (and even the above-average) comments page represents. I try not to be one of those "God, the ninety-five percent of people who aren't like me sure are stupid" people - who, invariably, show up halfway into most comment threads - but it's hard. The vitriol, the solipsism, the misspelled racial/sexual epithets, and then the people who correct said spelling, adding a bitchy aside about "their" vs. "they're", reclining triumphantly in their office chairs as if to exclaim "King Me!"

Afterwards, I can't help but feel diminished. Like I'm less of a person for making this trek into the collective subconscious' Thanatos.

I allow comments on here to see if anyone reads this. A counter at the bottom of the page would do the same job, but I hypocritically believe them to be a sign of vanity.