What is the self? Is it only ever what we think of it? Is it transient? Ever changing? Or is it fixed, a true point we must discover? Is it the one answer to a myriad of questions? Or is it the one question that has a myriad of answers?
I am finding myself caring less, and less, and less about what others think of me. Is this a point of danger? Or is this total emancipation? Would you call me selfish for this? Or selfless? Which way could it go? So I don't emerge from my apartment in a week weighed down with depression, feeling absolutely no responsibility to my family, boyfriend, or friends? Or so I soar over resistance effortlessly and achieve my wildest (positive) dreams? The more I understand about "reality," the less rigid it gets.