Unfortunately I didn't write this either, but an old friend sent it to me and I think it's really good.
One day perhaps three weeks ago, I woke up and I was you. It wasn't strange or
disconcerting, more relieving. I inhaled your breath, made your movements, held
your hands, gazed with your eyes. I was you. I laughed with your humour, I was
concerned with your worries, embarrassed by your failures, and proud of your
successes. I could visualise your aspirations and enjoy what made you happy. I
cruised your street and said hello to your hello people in your own friendly way. I
cried and I felt your tears. I remember your experiences, relived your memories, and
understood your reactions. I knew of your childhood, how you found your place,
your role, and how you became aware of yourself.
I wore your clothes, I wrote your name. I related to your music, appreciated your
colours, and understood your views, however vague they were. I was your age. I
went through your moods, lived your emotions, and expressed your views in your
fashion. In your place I stuck to your labels. I did the things you do. I was you. When
I was you, no one seemed to know any difference, perhaps they were too busy
worrying about themselves to notice. If they could place my identity, it gave them
security to set me in the continuum of their life. Being you enabled me to realise
some people used you and me just as a reference point to their own existence. A bit
like a road sign; go that way and you will get to that. I thought you were completely
different from me until I was you. Like me, you wanted happiness. You ate when you
got hungry, and got sort of annoyed when the sun got in your eyes. You felt the same
sensations; hot, cold, confused, embarrassed. Being you was only different in a
different sort of way. Only cosmetic things, trivial details. It seemed like minor
things separated us. The self-indulgent traps we fall into like how our hair looks, or
what’s the next record we're going to get. The never-ending search for satisfaction
was what drew us apart. But when it came to the act of existing, the act of being
alive, I understood we had more in common than we'll ever have differences. Much
more, all in all, I do what you do.
I am you.
( And here's the one I wish I wrote but didn't )![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
