i used to wish i was someone else and i was jealous of other people i thought were living more interesting lives. now i think i was mostly just disgruntled that i was not living my own life more interestingly. sometimes i have a difficult time being myself and then i think well who am i being, myself, just, i feel like that self is often simply silent like a cat padding about inside and looking out. and the recognition i sometimes feel with another animal is that, each looking out, recognizing that the other one is doing the same thing. hi, you're alive i see, yes, i'm in here, and you are too i see.