I will never know if I see colors the same way that you do.
Think about it: no matter what I do, no matter what you do, no matter what technology provides or glasses we put on, we will never have the same vision. I can never know for sure if what I describe as pink or yellow is what you see as pink or yellow, no matter how much I describe it. You can never know if I see blue and green when you do or if I see orange and brown instead. No matter what we do, we will never live in the same body or have the same brain and eyes. That’s just how sight works; we can describe what we see to each other, talk about it, even think we’re in agreement, but we can’t ever truly know what exactly someone else sees or feels. No matter how in depth we go or how empathetic we are, we can’t know completely what it is to live someone else’s life.
For most of my life, sexual attraction was like this. I thought that I was experiencing it because other people who do told me that I was. I didn’t know that my sexual and my romantic attractions don’t go hand in hand the way they do with many of my friends. I thought, “well, I love this person, so I’ll have sex with them to express that.” Or I would think, “Well, this person wants sex, and I think that’s what I’m supposed to want right now, so, I guess I do, too.”
Not having sexual attraction, romantic attraction, or both — or having one here or there, but not knowing that you’re acting as a performer who’s supposed to be seeing a certain color — that’s kind of…
