Everyone else

We're all human, after all; we're social animals that give our lives meaning mostly through social interaction. What people do, how and why they do it. A natural trend keeps us alert about what happens to others—to important, interesting others, at least. The better we can describe someone's behavior, the better we know that someone (even if we spend hundreds of hours reading magazines containing details about famous people's life to achieve such a goal). But not everybody has the same interests; importance parameters, then, are as variable as the type of eyebrows among humans.
Some keep a close eye on what happens to everyone but themselves. What everyone else is doing, that's what matters. "That's so like him," she once said confidently, and then she kept on explaining detailed aspects of his ways. When I asked her if she was a close friend of him, she confessed that she knew him from a course they had taken together six months ago, and that they usually didn't meet more than once a month. Can you know that much about someone you have seen about six times in your life? Either she had an astounding capability of knowing people thoroughly in a very short time, or she was an everyone elser—those who fill in the blanks about every single unknown behavioral feature as soon as they know someone new.
After I knew her (I must have talked with her no more than three times in my life), I started wondering about the way we can gain confidence talking about everyone else when we lack confidence in ourselves, about the way we can be overconfident and talk to everyone else only about ourselves, and about the way we can get to know ourselves confidently when we're able to listen to what everyone else says.
Now I talk about her, as if I had got to know her well. Maybe everyone elsers are actually extrovert insiders—those able to describe, whether by choice or by accident, their own ways. Perhaps most features—physical or psychological—to which we put so much attention when we interact with people, are those which we, to some extent, can find in ourselves. Not everything we see in everyone else, nevertheless, has to do with us; not everything we hear from them, smell in them, feel or think about them is us.
At the end of the day, everyone else will continue doing what they want to, whether I (we, you) like it or not. We (you, I), then, can do whatever we want to, sometimes they'll like it and sometimes they won't, but you (I, we) shouldn't care that much. Let's do our stuff, neither I, you, nor we are them—I am me, we are we, and you are you. What do you do? How and why do you do it? Everyone else is outside, but remember: you are too.