parthanox

I've heard of a lot of reasons why we see or hear about kind people in our lives. Kind people who help others at no cost, kind people who are always smiling, kind people who hand out compliments like they're nothing.

@cygnusdoesthings and I were having this conversation about why what living means.

"What does 'living' mean to you essentially?"

Living means different things to different people.

For some, it would be watering their plants, being able to eat three meals a day, going outside and walking, keeping things clean, playing guitar and recorder and having fun, parkour, just being able to breathe properly.

Now see, that's an interesting perspective.

For me, living is that feeling in your chest for when you meet new people, or try a new flavor of milk or juice, or finish an assignment and pump your hands up in the air with relief and cheer, or when you're in the side before going up on stage, or when you get a cute comment about your writing, or when your cursor is hovering over the 'post' button, or when the bus jerks and you mistype a word on the fic in your google docs on your phone.

We all got these feelings in our chest.

Sometimes they ache and long for comfort, sometimes they thud with joy and release a horde or butterflies in your stomach.

Those feelings in your chest? I think that's what some people live for.

So when someone does something like feed someone homeless or five charity or compliment someone, the feeling in their chest grows because the other person (the person they're helping) have that feeling too. That feeling basically connects like Bluetooth. Human to human. Living to living. Happiness for happiness.

Which, I believe, is why a lot of people live by helping others. Because by increasing that feeling—that will to live—in other people, they're increasing it in themselves too.

rationality is no longer in the foreground of my mind,

and I am repeatedly finding myself trapped in the endless corridors of my thoughts,

door after door, hall after hall, thought after thought.

nothing but thinking.