I find myself taking comfort in reading and hearing about other peoples lives a lot lately. It's nice to experience things through people sometimes. A good book, documentary or even a blog will do that to you. Just like a really good album can fill a hole you didn't know was empty.
At what point do we stop living through others though. At what point do our words become the comfort for someone else? And if you were aware of it, would it make you act any differently?
Good questions. I've always found comfort in hearing other people's stories. Their journies and struggles, the good times and the not so good times. It almost makes you feel not alone. Even when you're sitting by yourself somewhere. It's a big blanket that wraps you up tight and doesn't let go until it knows you're safe.
At least, that's what it feels like.
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