Frankly, I believe that identity is what's inside us.

I am neither I nor the other oneI am something in between

And yet does the appetite for new days ever really cease?

Society is a collection of selves perpetuating their myth.

Typical me--hurricane that leaves nothing but destruction.

I am not who I pretend to be, even when I act like myself.

Sometimes it seems my identity’s a matter of opinion

Behind every mask there is a face, and behind that a story.

All pain in life comes from suppressing your true identity.

I’m not just a face, or a body. I’m a Havisham.

Could circumstances possibly change who I forever am in You?

Am I too much for the world, or is the world too much for me?

The ego is the false self-born out of fear and defensiveness.

Maybe freedom means defining yourself any way you want to be.

I' is merely one of the world's instantaneous spasms.