`Who are YOU?’ said the Caterpillar.
This was not an encouraging opening for a conversation. Alice replied, rather shyly, `I–I hardly know, sir, just at present– at least I know who I WAS when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.’
-Alice in Wonderland
Not that I’m having a quarter-life crisis or anything, but who am I?
I think I’m a semi-smart 21 year old who likes to write and read and look at art, and who has no clue how to be an adult.
To my parents, I’m the middle child with a big mouth and a tendency for overreaction.
To my teachers, I’m the girl who raises her hand since I’m sick of sitting in silence for two minutes when a question is asked because, realistically, we’re too old for that bullshit.
To my friends, I’m the awful joke-telling shoulder to cry on who trips a lot. But even these descriptions of myself are filtered through my own perception.
So, who am I, really? Am I who I think I am, or who you think I am? Is it possible that I can be all of the different versions of myself that everyone else sees? Does any perception matter other than my own, or does every perception combine to make up who I am?
It occurs to me that I may actually be thousands of people at once.
Does that mean I have split personalities or something? DO I NEED THERAPY, INTERNET? Wait. Don’t answer that.