I couldn't do it. My mind refuses it. I'm of at least two: The real-world me is conservative, humorous, sarcastic, and quite boring to people, although intelligent and very creative. Almost everything he posts on Facebook is ignored. He is considered by others to be quaintly out of style and harmless, a great human being who can help you out in a pinch, rather absent-minded but often quiet and usually lost in a fog.
He wears his body uncomfortably and contorts his voice and face into strange expressions that are bizarre. He comes across as being effiminate and singsongy, even though inside he hates this. He uses his hands a lot when talking, as if all his expression isn't enough. You would call him animated without being entertaining. He tries to avoid using long words and obtruse sentence structure, which he replaces with a faux-folksy gee-whiz stupidity.
Oh God, I am so sick of being more than one person. The fact is that most of me, if not all of me, are people that others can't waste their time to fathom. The strain of it all is overwhelming me. I spend most of my time physically alone in crowds, or physically alone at home. The fact that I tend to be more than one person is probably the most interesting thing about me, but certainly not the most strange.
Lately I've been reading books that illustrate the danger of living an isolated life. You are at risk of being attacked and isolated and taken advantage of. Feeling myself in danger of this, I retreat more and more into a world where I am my own company, except as required. I've managed to put one of me, the most unsocially acceptable one, to rest for now, but the others are really no better. If I weren't of middle age and moderately successful in life, I'd be a perfect target for cults.
