Lost turns 10 this week, and you know what? After 10 years of watching the show and nursing my bruised fandom, I think I can confidently say that it, as a show and apparent exemplar of the Golden Age of Television, is utterly broken. There, I said it. I’ve said as much in lengthy conversations with friends. I’ve said so to Damon Lindeloff himself in my deepest, darkest dreams. You’ve probably thought much the same. But I have to also admit that, even knowing all of this, I’m still watching after all these years. (To be perfectly honest, I’m mid rewatch right now.) Why can’t I quit you, Lost? Why do I keep going back?
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