Everyone returns us to a different sense of ourselves, for we become a little of who they think we are. Our selves could be compared to an amoeba, whose outer walls are elastic, and therefore adapt to the environment. It is not that the amoeba has no dimensions, simply that it has no self-defined shape. It is my absurdist side that an absurdist person will draw out of me, and my seriousness that a serious person will evoke.
| Alain de Botton, On Love
Authenticity has been weaponized. It’s a term that’s really been abused. You can almost say today’s society is characterized by an authenticity-industrial complex. We’re more concerned with appearing real than being real.
"The voluptuousness of being alone in a world that believes it owns you. It’s not pride. Not even shyness. It’s a natural, simple and unforced sense of being left to yourself. Sometimes I’d like to leave my own body and from a corner of the room observe how I talk, how I get worked up, see what I’m like when I’m cheerful or sad, knowing that none of those things is me."
∆ Mihail Sebastian, For Two Thousand Years (trans. Philip Ó Ceallaigh)