Am I myself?

I fear my emotions betray all those of whom I may be composed.

I am my parents when anger engulfs me.

I am my friends when in their company.

I learned from my teachers the worth of myself, some taught me to work and achieve, others determined I was not worth the effort.

I find myself curious in moments of solitude.

Am I an individual? Have I been making my own choices and living a life for myself? Or rather, like the many shards of a broken mirror, reflections of all those I’ve met?

Which would I rather be the truth?