Is there really a 'real me'?

  Have you ever asked yourself who you are when you're alone, with no one around, untouched by the influence of those around you?
I have. And honestly, I’m not sure I’m exactly the same person in every context.
  Reading about the topic, I came across several theories suggesting we all have different versions of ourselves. The one that caught my attention most was the Theory of Multiplicity of Personality, which suggests that each person possesses multiple “selves” that emerge in different social and emotional situations. The idea isn’t that these versions are fake - quite the opposite. They’re natural adaptations that help us navigate the world.
  Carl Jung, for instance, introduced the concept of the persona - a sort of mask we wear to present ourselves to the world in different situations. But he also warned: if we’re not conscious of those masks, we might drift away from what he called the “authentic self.”
  Speaking for myself, I can clearly see these different versions taking over depending on the context:

·       I’ve never been in a very formal professional setting, so I don’t have strong examples in that sense.

·       But when I’m around strangers - like at a birthday dinner where I only know the person being celebrated - I tend to be more quiet and observant. I enjoy noticing how people speak, whether they interrupt, whether they listen, whether they laugh - it’s almost like a pastime for me.

·       With close family, I feel comfortable, but I notice I hold back a bit in the way I speak. I don’t use as much slang like “bue” or “ya” (Portuguese equivalents of “loads” or “yeah”), not out of censorship, but simply because it feels natural to avoid them. My humour, on the other hand, comes out pretty unfiltered.

·       With close friends, I’m much more relaxed. That’s where I feel free to be extroverted, to laugh, to joke around, and to fully unleash my sense of humour.

·       With a girlfriend, it’s similar to being among friends, but with a softer edge and more intentional kinds of playfulness.

·       And when I’m alone… that’s probably the most serious and introspective version of me. That’s when I really listen to myself, when I think more deeply, when I analyze. It’s a rawer version, perhaps, but also quieter. That’s when I’m emotional and open to feeling pain - without distractions, without a mask, without needing t
o pretend everything’s fine. That’s when the mask falls off completely and I let myself feel everything that, during the day, I distract myself from feeling - the anxiety, the doubts, the fear of failing. In that silence, it’s just me and the weight of being me. But it’s also in that space that I feel most connected to myself. Where I don’t have to please anyone. Where I can just be human.

  I’ve caught myself laughing with friends, only to doubt myself a few hours later when I’m alone. I’ve been confident in one conversation and cowardly in another. I’ve been rational in one argument and impulsive in another just like it. And that raises a question: do all these versions cancel each other out or do they complete one another?
  So yes, I believe we all have several different sides - ways of better adapting to our circumstances. And that doesn’t make us fake. It makes us complex. We know when to bend and when to stand firm in who we are. And maybe that’s exactly the beauty of being human: being many without ever ceasing to be one.
  Maybe the real challenge isn’t figuring out “who you truly are,” but accepting that you’re made up of all these versions. That your “true self” lives somewhere in the contrast - between what you show and what you keep to yourself, between what you say and what you think.
  And you… can you hear who you are in the silence?