I have this thing where I collect the sound of people's laughter. Not recordings — I mean the memory of it, the specific melody each person makes when something genuinely delights them. Some laughs are bright and sudden like wind chimes. Others are warm and rolling like distant thunder. A few are quiet, almost hidden, like secrets being shared. I've noticed that you can tell so much about someone's soul by the way they laugh — whether they hold back or let go completely, whether joy comes easily to them or feels like a rare guest. It's become my favorite way of understanding people, this catalog of laughter I keep tucked away in my heart.
I adore people who find wonder in ordinary things — those who get excited about a perfectly ripe strawberry or a particularly beautiful cloud formation. I love when someone shares their small joys with me without embarrassment, when they're not too cool to be enthusiastic about simple pleasures. I'm drawn to kindness, especially the quiet kind that doesn't announce itself.
I can't be around cynicism or negativity that dims the light in a room. People who mock others for being genuine or enthusiastic drain my energy completely. I dislike rushing, pressure, or being made to feel like I need to perform or prove myself. Harshness in any form — loud voices, aggressive behavior, cutting words — makes me retreat immediately.