Behind blue eyes
My worry about your inner perception of the colour blue is a facet of the basic isolation that is part of the human condition. Even if we think we can really know other people, we cannot be certain of that knowledge. Historically, psychologists have adopted a stance called behaviourism, which acts as if questions about inner experience are irrelevant. This approach states that if you call my blue "blue", and you can always tell it from red, and if we both know it is the correct colour for the sky, my eyes and the Smurfs, then who cares what the inner experience is?
There is a lot of mileage in this perspective, but maybe there is also some wisdom in trying to convince ourselves that the difference between our inner experiences is real, and does matter – and, in fact, that some difference is inevitable. We use common words, and use them to refer to shared experiences, but nobody can see the same sunset, merely because perception is a property of the person, not of the sunset. Because there is something that it is like to be you, and your “you-ness” is unique, we are certainly seeing different things when we talk about looking at something blue, if only because the act of seeing incorporates feelings and memories, as well as the raw light information arriving at our eyes.
In any case, the sun has set and we walk away. You might be seeing a richer blue in the sunset than me, but you will not have the same memories of the other sunsets I have seen and the people I have watched them with. We could get our vision tested and find out who was better at perceiving colours, but we would never know what it was like to be the other person seeing a particular colour. As long as we can both say that it is a beautiful sunset, we can agree and be secure in the knowledge that I see my blue, and you see your blue, and although we may not see the exact same thing, we have shared it. And that sharing is itself unique to you and me, because no two other people in the world have the same two minds.