Someone Else

Sometimes I wonder what it's like to be other people. What it's like to feel what they feel, see what they see, live what they live. What it's like to keep their secrets and feel their pain. And also their happiness. I wonder if colours look different to them. If they see the world how I do.

But it's not difficult to know what it's like to be someone else. You can know it right now. It feels like this. Because we're all other people. None of us are the same, but we all have that in common. We all feel, see, and live. We all keep secrets and feel pain. And we're all happy sometimes too. We all see colours. We all see the world.

We are all uniquely the same, and identically different.