A terrifc, biting essay, that I wish I wrote: 7 Reasons the 21st Century is Making You Miserable: I’m just going to quote number seven, because it helps point to why I do some of the crazy things I do online, make sure to read the whole thing:

7. We feel worthless because we actually are worth less.

There’s one advantage to having mostly online friends, and it’s one that nobody ever talks about:

They demand less from you.

Sure, you emotionally support them, comfort them after a breakup, maybe even talk them out of a suicide. But knowing someone in meatspace adds a whole, long list of annoying demands. Wasting your whole afternoon helping them fix their computer. Going to funerals with them. Toting them around in your car every day after theirs gets repossessed by the bank. Having them show up unannounced when you were just settling in to watch the Dirty Jobs marathon on the Discovery channel and then talk about how hungry they are until you finally give them half your sandwich.

You have so much more control in AOL Messanger, or in chat, or in World of Warcraft.

But here’s the thing. You are hard-wired by evolution to need to do things for people. Everybody for the last five thousand years seemed to realize this and then we suddenly forgot it in the last few decades. We get suicidal teens and scramble to teach them self-esteem. Well, unfortunately, self-esteem and the ability to like yourself only come after you’ve done something that makes you likable. You can’t bullshit yourself. If I think Todd over here is worthless for sitting in his room all day, drinking and playing video games, doesn’t it follow that I’m worthless for doing the same thing?

It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself, or what slogans you memorize about how everyone is special. You’ll think of yourself as special when you do something special. If you think of yourself as special prior to actually doing something special, you’re not healthy and well-balanced. You’re a narcissist, disconnected from reality.

You want to break out of that black tar pit of self-hatred? Brush the black hair out of your eyes, step away from the computer, and buy a nice gift for someone you loathe. Send a card to your worst enemy. Make dinner for Mom and Dad. Or just do something simple, with an tangible result. Go clean the leaves out of the gutter and listen to the sound of the free-flowing water the next time it rains.

It ain’t rocket science; you are a social animal and thus you are born with little happiness hormones that are released into your bloodstream when you see someone else benefitting from your actions. You can line up for yourself a spread of your favorite liquor, your favorite video game, your favorite movie and your favorite sex act, and the sum total of them won’t give you the same kind of lasting happiness you’d get from helping the cranky old lady down the street drag her garbage to the curb.

This is why office jobs make so many of us miserable; you don’t get to see the fruit of your labor. But work construction out in the hot sun for two months, and for the rest of your life you can drive past a certain house and say, “holy shit, I built that.”

That level of satisfaction, the “I built that” or “I grew that” or “I fed that guy” or “I made these pants” feeling, can’t be matched by anything the internet has to offer.

Except, you know, this website.