Weird that to get to what I am you have to be that first. Often think of you as an entirely different species to myself. Sure, I see parts of myself in you but I also see parts of myself in a cat or a polar bear or a frog.
What really stops me from seeing how you can eventually be what I am is that we don't process things the same; I can't communicate with you. You're forcing me to learn a new language that's not even in the same family as mine. And besides, we don't have anything in common to talk about. You don't understand why you have to wear this stupid flappy bit of fabric on your head only on sunny days. Burying your face into the couch makes you invisible. The shelf inside the coffee table is a perfectly acceptable place to store four half-chewed pieces of apple until they rot into a pungent giveaway. 'Hello' can be dropped in at any point of any conversation and taking off your pants is the easiest way to get attention (similar tactic to my species, actually?).
Still. Imagine how small your world must be if the most horrific, traumatic experience of your day is that you can't unclip a helmet strap. Imagine if that was all it took to send me to tears. Truly, I would rather more complex tragedies. My world is a thousand times larger than yours and even I only know one fignernail of it.
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