It occurred to me today that while I know pretty well who I am, there's no way I could define it, in words or otherwise. I'm sure everyone else has this problem to some degree, except perhaps the people who have no clue who they are but think they do and describe themselves in a few sentences.
I used to think there was the true "me," and all the other "mes" were variations on a theme, modifying myself to fit the circumstances and company. The true me was the alone me - perhaps because I don't have talk to myself. Now I'm thinking that "me" is the conglomerate, clumsy balance of all the subtle shades of me. None is truer than the other. Some shades I like better than others, but they aren't truer because of that. And one would potentially go insane trying to describe or even list all the shades, much less their interaction.
In that light, one could not use the excuse "I wasn't myself" anymore. You are always what you are. What you do shows how you worship, despite the words you use to describe your religions.
This all came about because I don't much like the interacting-with-people-at-work "me," having to exchange pleasantries and pointless small talk with people I don't know and with whom I have nothing real to talk about. If I worked somewhere else, where the only people around were my coworkers, that'd be great. But every day here I see faces I've never seen before, and they inevitably mutter "hi" or ask how I'm doing. I doubt they care, but I feel obligated to answer in a reciprocately uncaring "fine," lest they be offended. I suppose it smoothes things over for everyone, but I find it unnecessarily stressful. Sometimes it would be more convenient to be invisible - imagine the stressless bliss and the hilarious things you'd get to see. Well, I see hilarious things all the time, but they're mostly in my head.