You're mind is racing like a pro, now, Oh my god it doesn't mean a lot to you

We are carpenters.

When one truly thinks about it, everyone makes things. Chairs, for example. We make them for a functional purpose. But what makes them good or bad? It's all objective, it's all made up of standards, of judgments... and then personal sentiment rides in. It makes one look at the chair and decide whether it serves its purpose or not. In truth, it serves a purpose. Just not to you.

And life is the ultimate pharmakon. It's a matter of "different, but the same". Pliers versus the copper ring. One was needed for the other to be necessary. Such is pain- in order to feel life, one must experience it. It is then broken into what we make of pain- how we deal, how long we allow it to affect our current state, how often it recurs and how it settles. Without pleasure, there is no pain. Without life, there is no death... So when one experiences that sense of dying, there is also that experience of feeling life, of reaching out to it with the utmost optimism and hope that you will escape from its clutches... "Because life is just right". It happens for reasons beyond our grasps.
I wish you could see that personal sentiment makes life an individual experience, but it can be simultaneously shared. You can have that hand to hold when you think no one understands.
Because I will try my very damnedest to get to that level of understanding, and although it will never be full understanding (because I will never experience life within your eyes), I will understand.
Just give me the chance to. Trust me, we'll pull through.