thinking

Isn't it strange how so many versions of you live in other people's minds? 

To some, you're the quiet one who never speaks. To others, you're the loud one who never stops talking. Some see you as distant and hard to know, while others think you're the most caring person they've met.

But none of these versions are the real you. 

They're just pieces shaped by how people see the world, not by who you really are. Even the person you believe yourself to be only exists for yourself, one that lives only in your mind, built from your own memories, your worries, and your dreams. 

Perhaps who you are isn't meant to be defined but discovered moment by moment in the way you choose to live. But you're not defined by the fragments others see or even the image you hold of yourself. You're the choices you make, the love you give and the life you create. 

Maybe being undefinable is the most human thing of all.