“Do you think we’d all have different personalities based on our different upbringings?”
There is a moment of silence and a puzzled look shot my way, “What do you mean?”
“If different dimensions do exist,” which I’m fairly certain they do, “and there are multiple versions of yourself, do you believe they’d all be slightly (or vastly) different based on their upbringings?”
“Do you feel upbringings are what our personalities are based on?”
“To a certain extent. I mean, I think it’s sort of like an algorithm. Of genes, interactions, choices, people we bring into our lives – at the base of all of that I believe is where our upbringing lies. We learn how to make choices, whether we like it or not. It’s rare we ever really make them for ourselves.”
For some of us that feels like bloodletting. For others, draining any remnants of the family pool is a relief. Either way, it seems when you have to take that route, the ending always leaves you with an empty set of veins.
By now it’s only the sound of our footsteps responding to my inquiry. My company finally lifts their eyes from the ground.
“I guess I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“I could be wrong,” there is a slight grin, “but if it’s really true I suppose that means we’re all interchangeable. You can be whoever you want to be whenever you want to be it. Nobody can say boo to you because somewhere you’re just being yourself.”
Eye contact is finally locked, I figure by the mirrored reflection it’s time for me to start explaining myself. I’m not even sure how to. Sometimes it all just trails from my mouth like I missed the water in my cup.
“What I’m trying to say is that I think we all have some level of control over who we are.”
“You want to have control over who you are?”
“No, I guess it’s just that I’m more afraid of who I’d be if I didn’t.”
This time it’s my own eyes counting the breaks in the tile. My veins feel so hollow they could shrivel up into dust.
“I think that is due to your upbringing.”
“Not if I pull my view from a different dimension.”