And so I asked my mother,“ what is it really like out there?”, as I peeked through a keyhole that gives me a glance of a world so strange, so unknown to me. I’ m blind to it. I’ ve been dying to know, to be honest. I wanted to see, to feel, to smell, and I’ d do anything to do it again. She looked at me and I saw her bittersweet smile, she wrapped her arms around me and I could feel her warmth.“ different”, different. What makes it so? How is it so? What is " different " about the world outside? " I see people, different faces, different personalities, but all that behind a mask they had decided to use forever. Sometimes it would feel sickening to live among fake people, and soon everything would just start to seem so monochrome. I see a person, and I know them inside, but I was wrong most of the times, for what I thought I knew turned out to be something