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There’s a reason I keep dancing. And it has very little to do with the dancing itself.Well, okay. The music helps. The movement. The sheer joy of losing myself in a song with a room full of women.But I think it’s also this.Sometimes, when you’ve been in your head for too long, trying to work something out, turning it over from every possible angle, you don’t need another hour alone with your thoughts.You need connection.

I've been down a rabbit hole of weird science facts lately and they all say the same thing. Hills look less steep when you're standing next to a friend (even just thinking about one works, which I love). Saying "I'm completely overwhelmed" out loud actually calms the alarm bell in your brain, so venting is basically regulation, thank you very much. And you don't even have to be in the same room.

There’s a little thread I’ve been following for most of my life. I didn’t know it had a name for a long time. I just knew I wanted to feel alive. Really alive. The kind where your whole body is involved. Where you’re laughing so hard you can’t speak properly. Where you’re dancing and forget what you look like. Where you’re sitting around a table with people you love and suddenly think, fuck, I really love my life.