Ever since I was young I would laugh at things others wouldn’t. A sneeze at a funeral, a push on a pull door, a wrong ingredient in a recipe. A plethora of things every day would bring me fleeting moments of joy.

As I grew older, however, this led to some uncomfortable situations; daggerish glares from across a room, or demands from individuals as to why I was laughing at their expense. I could never give much depth to a response past “I thought it was funny”, reassuring that the laughter was never directed at them - but actions, and laughter, speak louder than words.

Recently, I’ve been receiving acupuncture treatment, specifically a form known as Five Elements. I’m not well versed enough to give a full breakdown of thousands of years of practice, but in summary: our system (mind, body, soul) consists of five elements working in harmony for us to exist. When participating in this style of acupuncture, you’re typically treated on an element which is not in tune with the rest of them (Gerad Kite’s The Untapped Self is a much more accessible and nuanced read, if you’re interested).

Long story short, the element which I was to be treated on was the Fire element, with one of the key indicators being “an overabundance of laughter”.

When I first heard this I laughed (of course) - it’s such a simple phrase, but I deeply resonated with the way it was described. To me, “an overabundance” is not too much of something, instead it feels like an indication of having so much of something. I’ve always been aware that I laugh at many things, and this phrase felt like shining a light on a part of me I’d not fully delved into over all these years.

On introspection, the laughter can be quite troubling. Many things I find humorous could be described as “not funny”. I find it hilarious to be watching a comedian tell a joke to a room, and the response is silence - the humour is not at the expense of them failing, but in the fact that room should be laughing. It is surreal. It is odd. It is “not right”.

I do not find joy in the misfortune of others. There is no malice or bad intent behind my laughter in these situations, nor uncomfortability from. I simply find a deep joy in the absurdity of life - things occurring when they shouldn’t.

Yes, there are obviously examples of this which are not funny; murder, for instance. Murder shouldn’t happen, though it might be a stretch to call it absurd. Am I able to explicitly draw a line on things which I will and won’t laugh at? Things I should or shouldn’t laugh at? I don’t believe I have that ability now, nor may I have it in the future. However, I do know that I do not find humour in the sadness, the hurt, or the pain in others.

What all of this means, in the end, is nothing. It’s a piece of writing about me laughing at things which may or may not be funny. Which is absurd (and by virtue, funny).

I enjoy the fact that I laugh so much. Does it have the unfortunate consequence of being misconstrued, sometimes.

I can assure you, however, that if you slip on a banana peel and fall over (sans injury), that’ll be the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.