Do not do this because usually there are storage spaces there and you'll hit your head.

One of the many distinctive characteristics, powers and perks of being one of the human species is our ability to imagine feelings that are not ours. We are capable of imagining what he or she or that organic being or even that inorganic being would feel. And consequently even feel good or bad ourselves.

Most of the times, it is not a capacity, but more a condition. We don't have to want to use it. The "sympathy" feature just inconveniently goes on by itself. We imagine the embarrassment of someone committing a serious gaffe on TV shows and feel awkward for them. (Like when their lies are being revealed. I can't watch that.) We imagine the sorrows of someone who lost their family member and feel sad in front of the news. We imagine how a dog would be cold in the winter (despite the fact that they are covered with fur, and probably pretty warm) and feel so bad that we decide to make clothes for the poor thing who now has to adjust to walking with fleece jackets on.

But sometimes, it's an ability. We can click on the button at our will. I think I do it less than I should. We actively try to sympathize and find things to say to a brokenhearted person. Sometimes I find myself actively personifying nature or technology in order to do more environmentally-conscious things. Oh, the tree must be having a hard time breathing, I should drive less. Oh, the light bulb must be worn out, I should turn the light off.

Emotions like that fuel us to do things.

With just a few spoonful of reason in the bucketful of emotions, we would have the potion of understanding. The potential to understand. We can sketch out the contexts and calculate the impacts with a pencil of reason, then color it with a paint of emotions. And I guess bigger the paper, the more possible understanding. I don't know what paper stands for here.

I started writing this in defense of egg yolk. I always accidentally squeeze the over-easy yolk all over my food. And I used to hate it. All my eggs were over well. But eggs in my school's dining hall were always over easy or over medium if not ordered separately. So I got used to getting them, and always popping them. But the inflicted food doesn't taste that bad. I don't mind. I almost prefer it now. You're a surprise, but at least to me, yolk, not a bad one. I imagine you don't enjoy this either. I imagine you feel scattered (you are). I know that I accidentally popped you, and things were not under your control.

I understand. I like it.

 With just a little help. I wouldn't mind a toast with that though.

Mothagesso.

No man is an island.