How many versions of you do you go through every day?
Probably more than the clothes in your wardrobe.
You change from one person to another, from one setting to another, from one feeling or mood to another.
Are you the same “you” with your mother that you are with your friends?
Is the “you” that you are with your best friend the same “you” that you are with your lover?
And the “you” that you are with your lover is the same as the “you” that you’ve been with your ex-lover?
And what about the “you” that you are with yourself?
Today “you” are yourself and tomorrow “you” are also yourself.
What changes and what stays the same?
You look more or less the same every day—your eyes don’t change color.
Your arms or legs don’t grow or shorten.
You keep your shape.
You are sky.
But like the sky you change.
And then you are also clouds.
You ask yourself “Who am I?”
And you answer every day, with everything you do, with every word you say or don’t say, with your silence, too.
You answer with every desire and every hope and every dream.
Consciously or not.
But are “you” the same “you” that you’ve been before you began to read this?
Will the same “you” that goes to bed today wake up tomorrow?
If “you” keep changing even as you keep staying the same, how can I know “you”?
And can “you” know me, if I, too, am like you and go through the same process of change?
But I know that there’s no fixed “you,” that you keep changing with your emotions and your thoughts and your dreams and your desires.
And “you” know the same thing about me.
We know each other through change.
We can pretend we know each other.
And make up stories, good or bad fictions.
But are we not wiser discovering our ignorance?