I’ve been reflecting recently on what it truly means to be different. Not in the superficial sense we sometimes talk about, where “being unique” is treated like a slogan, but in the deeper, more uncomfortable sense. The kind of difference that makes you pause and wonder whether you fit, whether people see you the way you see yourself, and whether the parts of you that stand out are strengths or flaws. The truth is, every one of us carries a mixture of good and bad, confidence and doubt, clarity and confusion. That blend is what makes us human, even when it feels messy or inconvenient.
A friend of mine has been struggling with this lately. He told me he felt like people were speaking to him differently, as if something about him had shifted in their eyes. He said he was still the same person, still himself, and he didn’t want anything he was going through to redefine him. There was fear in that—fear of being misunderstood, fear of being labelled, fear of being alone in an experience he didn’t ask for. It’s a feeling many people know but rarely admit: the worry that being different means being isolated.
Listening to him, I realised how often we forget that difference is universal. We all have something that sets us apart, something that shapes how we move through the world. Yet we treat our own differences as burdens while admiring the uniqueness in others. The irony is that the very things we think separate us are often the things that connect us most deeply. If we were all the same, life would be painfully predictable. We wouldn’t form the relationships that change us. We wouldn’t learn from people who think differently. We wouldn’t have the unexpected moments that only happen because two people bring different histories, personalities, and perspectives into the same space.
I tried to explain this to him. I told him that being different isn’t a flaw to correct but a reality to accept. It’s what gives us character. It’s what shapes the people we meet and the paths we take. It’s what makes our lives feel lived rather than copied. When someone feels like they’re drifting or standing out in a way they didn’t choose, it’s easy to assume something is wrong. But often, it’s simply life reminding us that we’re not meant to blend into a single mould.
When we stop fighting our differences and start understanding them, we begin to see ourselves with more compassion. We also start to see others more clearly. Everyone is carrying something. Everyone is navigating their own version of “different.” And when we acknowledge that, the fear of being alone in it starts to fade.
So when my friend said he didn’t want to be different, I understood what he meant. He didn’t want to feel singled out or treated like a problem to solve. But the truth is, he isn’t alone in feeling that way. None of us are. Being different is not a deviation from the human experience—it is the human experience. It’s what makes our relationships meaningful, our stories personal, and our lives uniquely ours.
We are meant to be different. And once we stop seeing that as something to fear, it becomes something to value.