The longer you live, the more you realize that we all have these personas we project out into the world. We can become seemingly different people depending on who we're around. And certain people bring out different versions of ourself. But who are we really? Are we all of those people? None of them?
There seems to me to be this untouched, quiet, ever-present, ever-watchful me that sits in my core. It is the me that seems the most real. Yet I have few words to describe that me. It is an odd feeling. It is that me that objectively sees all, without attachment, without yearning, without judging, without feeling, without acting. It is the being of me. The being.
All the other stuff feels like doing. The personas defined by their behaviour. They can be shed or put on like clothing. They are changeable. They are fleeting. They just don't seem so real to me anymore.
Odd. Very odd.