Wednesday, cookiemonger and I sat and had a good, long Skype (how many ways can that be interpreted? >:D) wherein we discussed lots of stuff. We actually started out with a list of topics in mind, which we’d sort of agreed upon on Monday (more like, they came up in conversation and they were written down), pondered about throughout Tuesday, and finally, discussed on Wednesday evening, after I got home from work.

Our conversation was lovely. We talked about so many things. I’d have to give it a good, long think to remember even a few things we talked about (that I’d be willing to share at this particular moment in time), I just remember how easily the conversation flowed and how wonderful it felt to be talking with someone who wasn’t just interested in what I was talking about, but was interested in me.

It’s the sort of thing that I wish everyone could have: it’s one of those things that makes the world a place worth living in. To speak and be heard, to hear and to listen. To converse, to share thoughts and ideas. I felt at ease, at peace with what was going on around me, and when it was time to go, I felt like I’d been heard. There are always more things to talk about, but for then, for that time, for that particular Wednesday evening, I was content.

Probably even happy in that way people mean when they talk about happiness like it’s a big, scary noun that everyone should want and work to achieve. Hell, it could’ve rained on my parade and I probably would’ve burst into song in spite of it.