Authenticity

[this is generally a non-gamey post so you've been warned]Who is the real you? Is it that gorgeous girl, whose killer wings coax a "you have beautiful eyes" from strangers and sisters alike? Is it that softspoken thinker, ever mulling the meanings of art and connection over his matcha? Is it that person with the name tag, the one with your name that a customer calls when they need your help? Is it that fragile wet naked thing who's just stepped out from the shower? That exhausted soggy face in the mirror, anxiously checking its hairline? I'm of the opinion that any given person is really a tapestry of people, of faces and masks and personas and etiquettes. They're a closet of clothes being swapped and washed and bought and sold and tailored and torn and stained and rediscovered somewhere in the back of a drawer. Every act and article is a signal, a different facet of the "real" you, impossible to express in its multiplicity, like trying to pick out a spark in a fireworks show. This…