Who are you?

Posted: December 4, 2014 in uncategorised

That is quite a simple question.

It is much easier to answer that question about someone else. For example, who is James Bond or who is Britney Spears? Most people have an answer to those.

It’s easier to describe one of your friends or someone else because you only see one side of them, you only see one of their faces. But if you’re the person on the inside, and you know that you have many faces, it is much harder to reconcile them all into one being/entity. All your faces chatter and collaborate, and you wonder if they all stem from the real you, or if the real you is a shattered and messy collection of equally valid James Bonds. Like you’re a drunk person whose stumbled onto a highway and been splattered across every lane. Then every person who meets you is an ant that’s come across a bit of your guts.

Have you met James Bond? Why yes, he’s a liver, he’s got bile in him and lots of lobules.

What about you? Have you met James Bond? Yes ofcourse, I know him, he’s a heart all filled with muscle and blood.

When life starts you’ve pretty much got it all together, you’re just walking to the shops. Then at some point, you get hit by a car, and the world is like the most insane highway you’ve ever imagined, with oblivious cops and tanks storming along the road and on the pavement and into your house and through shopping malls in indestructible vehicles, smashing and crushing men, women and children alike. You start off as just one person, all together, but as life goes on you keep getting splattered all over the place, and it’s so hard to put yourself back together.

When I look in the mirror, I don’t recognise the person there, and I find it hard to match that person with my thoughts and actions. Like when you listen to yourself in a recording, and you just can’t believe that voice is yours.

Who are you really?

I am convinced that question cannot be answered using your own isolated thought process. You need some kind of external stimuli, someone on the outside who can match the thing you see and the things you feel and think.

There are all these ants in my house. They keep coming back into my house after I ask them to leave. At first I am polite, and I do not force anything, but then I become quite unreasonable. I am ashamed to say my fingers often smell of ant guts.

If it is very hot outside, and they are hanging around the tap in the kitchen, then I will be lenient. Ants need to drink too, and I’ve got all this water I’m not using. So that’s fair enough. But, when it looks like they’re setting up camp, and they become entitled, and start putting their flags up on packets of food, that’s when we have little disagreements.

I leave the bodies of their slain lying around as a warning post; ‘Danger!’ ‘Enormous falling fingers!’

To be frank, I really don’t know if they’re heeding the warnings.

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