sometimes we seem to get trapped in the identity we invented for ourselves|we feel like there is something we cannot do or say because it would be so unlike us|funny thinking|just how stable is our identity|if i would lose my memory and had to start all over again|what kind of person would i become|would i recognize or even like myself|would i be better off without my experiences and memories|would oblivion mean bliss or torture|when i realise that despite its constraints i like my present self too much to find out|is that an epiphany or is it just me affirming my imprisonment yet again|after all it would be so unlike me to even consider doing anything reckless|sometimes i wish i could believe in some kind of god|because then i could entrust someone else with brooding about my identity|and happily accept the constraints of my life as part of some master plan|