by Grace Pappadellis ’29 on September 24, 2026
Opinion
Not one human is the same, not their outward appearance, their everyday actions and choices, their innate beliefs, their developing mindsets, or their preclivities and aversions. Even identical twins—I was close with two sets for a long time, and I still speak to one counterpart of a set several times a week—are vastly different in the way they interact with others and how they conduct themselves in the world. However, their innate similarities have the ability to shine through the permeable curtain of inseparability, presenting as identical, indistinguishable qualities, as if they are complete mirrors of each other.
Aside from biological relations, there are obvious commonalities between friendships, strong, long-lasting friends especially, as well as astounding differences that raise the question of how two people can possibly get along with such disparities. I had a close-knit, long-term friend group in high school, and although we all shared the same sense of humor and liked the same pizza toppings, we were wholly different people in our heart of hearts. If it is coming across that we were incompatible friends, then I am failing to convey my statement. We were on the same moral wavelength. We all valued the people around us, each other, and understood how to be empathic and show up for one another. With those principles, we rarely faltered. Regardless, each one of us had completely different passions, lifestyles, hobbies, things that caught us on a line and drew us in, slowly and thoroughly, carefully capturing us in ways we could never truly explain to each other. Although we showed interest in each other’s hobbies, listened to each other’s stories, asked questions, and even participated in the same activities, we could never mirror each other. We could never match up in the way we had hoped, even with maximum effort, though we cared enough about each other to try. It’s impossible to break the inexorable pattern in which humans grow a liking—or loving—for each other and attempt to mirror one another. I have learned that you cannot become someone else in order to display your utmost affection and dedication to them, or what they love, or what they commit themselves to every day. In companionship, we strive to fit together, like a sailboat on the surface of still, calm water. Like stacked spoons. Vines climbing up the side of a building. Wind in an open field. As if we are seamless counterparts wandering about, our sole purpose being to find our other piece. As if we look in the mirror and see the other person, or we see each other, and we are the same.
There is no truth in standing in a room full of people and finding even one person who is the same as us. Or standing on a crowded beach, or on a chaotic college campus, or in a bustling city. Humans build their identities and curate the self they want to put forth in the world by experiencing things. Experiences are perceived differently by each and every person, down to every minute detail. Details we could never articulate, sometimes too microscopic to notice ourselves. This does not mean that people don’t share similar experiences, or reveal situations and outcomes to each other that are strangely akin. In even more otherworldly, individual experiences, a person can find themselves seeing people they once knew in new people they have met. I have sat in new classrooms and seen a boy and a girl who sickeningly reminded me of a boy and a girl I once sat in a classroom with–and was very close to–in elementary school. Similar mannerisms, similar smiles, similar intent stares while listening closely. People I don’t know, unknowingly mirroring people I once knew, but don’t know anymore. We mirror each other without trying. When we put too much stock into trying to connect with one another based on finding every shared similarity we can, we lose where motivation is rooted to connect, the authentic ability to understand another person because they are interesting to us, not because they are the same. We cannot truly resonate with someone when we think we recognize all the words they say, the actions they take, and feel like we are staring into a mirror. Yet, it is invigorating to come across a person who fits into your life because you see things the same, your perceptions seemingly align, but the process of figuring that out is at a slow, gradual pace. Stories absorbing into each other’s skin. No rush to see yourself in another person when you first realize you are recognizing features, faults, quirks, and feeling that unbridled desire to know someone inside and out.
Regardless of this thought process, whether you find it completely garbled or strongly insightful, it should be obvious to everyone that embracing our individuality and allowing authentic experiences to unfold for us will only strengthen our ability to understand one another. The newfound lessons we gain from experience will equip us with the skill to see similarities, appreciate them, and nurture an empathetic, diverse relationship without latching onto a person with an identity we simply do not have.