Joy-less or full?

Is taking pleasure in others’ joy a symptom of depression or exceptional emotional health? One could make a case for either side, I suppose.

Good fiction requires no explanation, so here’s an explanation for this: 😉 The origin for this is actually a quite light moment, where I was at the movies and a bunch of kids looked so excited buying popcorn and headed into see something, I don’t know what, and I was debating seeing a movie. But I read descriptions of everything playing and I’ve had bad experiences the last, probably, seven times I’ve seen a movie in the theater. Plus I had writing projects waiting for me at home, so I just genuinely enjoyed, vicariously, the excitement I well remember of going to the movies as a youngster, and then I went home. So in this instance it was the second, I think, although I could probably make a case…


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