A few days ago a friend let me read a few lines that she had written about me. Although it was all very nice and flattering, I was astonished because I never saw myself that way. Then I remembered about another friend whose idea of himself remarkably differed from my opinion - the man thought he looked like a movie star while I thought he's most suitable for a monster role.
So it dawned on me that each person I encountered in life certainly had their own perception of me. I might appear sharp or dull, nice or creepy, remarkable or forgettable in the eyes of different people. Even the image I see every morning in my mirror is just my own perception of myself. Does the real me even exist, or is it just as elusive as these subatomic particles which change their state by the mere act of observation?
In that sense, we are all multifaced, not by deceit but by how we are viewed by those around us. Our true face probably can never be fully known, and I suppose that's how sometimes we can surprise even ourselves.