I sit here in this small vinyl seat, awaiting another delayed flight. The airport is hot, I am bored, and the chair below me is slowly growing more and more. I don't want to read the books I brought, because I will finish them before my plane, and I don't want to waste my battery on my phone because it only has 30 minutes of good use before it dies. So I sit. And I wait. And I fidget in my seat. As the time slowly passes and I realize this flight is leaving no time soon, I decide to get comfortable, sit back, and begin to do what we all do best when stranded in an airport. I begin to watch and observe and judge all those around me. It's called people watching.

As I sit here and I watch those around me, I start to feel connected, and slowly my lonely airport depression begins to drift away. I watch those getting on and off of planes, and suddenly, I don't feel so alone. I watch and I know the struggles of those around me. I know the stress of being late and running with all you've got to chase the closing doors of a plane. I know the luxury of extra time sitting at my gate. I know the joys of traveling with good friends, and I know the adventures of traveling alone. And while I have never been in the position of the parents dragging their kids through the airport, you can be sure that I've been that kid, laying on the floor crying about how far of a walk it is to our gate.

I have been in the position of most all of these people that are walking past me, and I have come to understand the inevitable struggles they are facing. I know the goods and the bads of airport travel. And I know the emotions of those stuck in the doom of travel.

And yet, though I watch and I relate and I feel like I connect, I do not know these people at all.

Sure, we have shared some similar experiences, and we have been in some similar positions. We have seen the same signs for a delayed flight, and we have known the frustration of a security line designed to make us miss our flight. We have spent way too much on a single meal at the airport, and we have gone hungry for a day of travel so that we can stay on budget. We have both felt the plastic chairs outside the gates mold to our backsides as we await our loading zone to be called, and our ticket to be checked.

We have both been there and seen that and done this. Yet still, I don't know them.

I don't know anything about these people. I don't know where they have come from, or where they are going. I do not know what brought them to the airport; whether it be joy or sorrow; adventure or mourning. I do not know why some look anxious and others seem calm as they stroll through the corridors of gates. I do not know the decisions they have made that have landed them in this airport, in this city, at this time, on this day. I don't know anything about these people. But I wish I did.

I wish I had the time to sit down with each one of them and hear their stories. To hear the joy and the sadness, the pain and the comfort. To hear about the choices they have made, the experiences they have had, and the advice they can give. I long to hear about the days of the past from those older than me, and to hear the innocence of a child who has not come to know the world. I long to hear their stories. I long to know their past. I desire to know their passions and pursuits, and ultimately their goals. I long to know what drives them, and why they are the people they are. Why their minds think the way that they do.

I long to hear stories of success, as well as those of great failure. I long to know how they got back up in the face of adversity; how they stood against all odds and achieved their goals, or how they accepted defeat and moved on.

...I long to know these people, because I long to be validated by them.

I want to be confirmed by them, to be comforted by them, and for them to tell me who I am and where I'm going and how my life will end up. I long for these people to tell me where to step next.

As I gaze out over this airport, I long to be known and accepted and made sure of myself by a group of people who don't know me. To be called out in a sea of people as someone who is worthy and seen and understood.

But how can I? My life is my own, no one else knows it. No one else has been through what I have been through or seen the things I have seen. No one else has walked my path, or seen my past, or known the struggles of my life and the daily burdens of my childhood. No one else can relate to what I have been through...right?

How can I be known in a sea of those who don't know even know my name?

So often we sit in a puddle of our own thoughts. We wallow in the sadness of a life lost, even though we are still living it. And the hard part is that sometimes, that wallowing is totally valid.

We accept the false reality that no one else has been where we have been, that they can never know, that they can never understand our battles. We separate ourselves so quickly into the depression of loneliness thinking that no one is there, because nobody knows why it is so hard. And so quickly we make ourselves alone.

But the truth is this. While no one else will ever be able to know the true depth of your struggles and your pain and your past to the level that you know it, they want to.

They want to know your battles, because they want you to know theirs too. They sit, and they "people watch" you, wishing that you knew the struggles that they are dealing with.

Every day we live a life that is not simply our own. We intertwine with those around us to make a sonnet of life played by the symphony of society. We walk alongside and with and next to hundreds of people who all feel the same; lost and too often alone.

We seek and we search, and we chase after our passions. We struggle through hardship and we face adversity, and we suffer loss. And we do it together.

We all have a story, and we're all living it here and now. And so badly we long to know that someone else is living with us. That someone else has faced what we have faced and that in spite of it all, they are still standing. We long to know that we have someone to lean on.

And I hope you know you're not alone, and I hope you know that you never will be. There is no big finale to this article. There's no resolution or a big piece of advice, there's no unfound wisdom, or great revolutionary thought. There is only something that you've heard before. I don't really even know why I wrote this article. But I hope you enjoyed it and I hope you get something out of it.

I hope you know that those around you have been there, in at least some aspect. They have seen all sides. And I hope you know that those around you feel the same as you do. They long to be validated and known by the same sea of travelers, lost in the airport. They long to be noticed in a society of people, just like you. Because they have lived a story that is intricately connected, yet entirely different from yours, and they long to know that someone walks alongside them.

So why not get up and walk with those that we so intently watch. Because in the end, we all long to look over in this journey of life, and be recognized by those at our side.