The other night I was driving home, shuffling through m’tunes, and happened upon this Phosphorescent song, Too Sick to Pray. Almost a year ago, while going through a drug out break up and a pretty gnarly respiratory infection, I listened to this song approximately 937 times, driving to and from work. I could barely breathe and my heart ached and I couldn’t go minutes without crying but I’d sing the living crap out of this song through my nose. Listening to it again gave me this really odd longing and nostalgia for how down I was then. I’m happy to not be there anymore, but I weirdly miss feeling that way. What is that? Tell me what that is. My theory: are we maybe, sadly, never more alive than when we’re sad? Perhaps even more alive than when we’re fully happy? We are vulnerable, feeling all of our feelings x100, noticing everything in relation to our sadness, thinking grandly. We feel significant? Or even further: are we secretly the happiest when we get to think of nothing but ourselves, which is at the root of sadness? Is this when we’re most happy, in a sick sort of way? Ruminate. Discuss.