The borrowed self
I wonder if I’m anything but what I have borrowed. Is there more inside me than what has been inherited? Have I more to give than the sum total of all that I have been given?
My identity is supposed to be what and who I am, but when I examine it, when I look closely, I am not to be found. My identity has nothing to do with what is purely me. There is nothing to my identity that means anything to me if it didn’t mean something to someone else aswell. My name, my age, my nationality etc., have everything to do with everyone else and nothing to do with me. Just look closely.
I have yet to know myself without all that has contaminated me. But I know now that I was mistaken about myself all along.
Are you mistaken aswell?