Myself.
You know something? I'm starting to think that I don't even have my own personality anymore.
I look back at all the different people I've tried to be, in my youth, you know, different personas I've tried to adopt: Preppy girl, Grunger, Goth, Sloaney, etc, and I wonder where the original me fits in. If there ever was a real me.
I don't think anybody really knows thier "true self." I think the self is only really in tact for the first few moments of existance before outside influences pollute and attach themselves to it. Maybe we only realise our true selves again at the moment of death, when these transient paper bindings are decayed and we are enlightened.
It's disturbing to think that all I consist of is a mixture of the many people who have past through my life, who in turn consist of the same in thiers. Perhaps this is the development of social and cultural norms; the world consists of us and we consist of the world, and when the individual is stripped down to its inner core they become nothing, no one, but a reflection.