You don’t know me.
You do not know what I’ve been through. Even if you’ve been through worse, you still don’t know what I’ve been through. And you don’t know how I process what I’ve been through. You don’t know my thoughts and feelings and even if I tell you them you won’t know. You are not me. You don’t experience me as I am. You can’t. You are not the one in my skin.
And I don’t know you, just the same.
I cannot imagine what you are going through. And if you explain yourself as clearly as possible, I still won’t know. I’ll only have the vaguest idea based on my own experience, not yours.
You are you and I am me.
Nice to meet you. As long as we know each other, this never ends. It’s nice to meet you every day.