I get very indignant and cold when people speak about how much they know me. That they know who i am so well and can speak for me. Just because these people think they know all about me I want to laugh in their faces. Even the closest people to me know very little because I rarely share with even myself what goes on in my head and heart. Yes, they may have some insights that I might miss but, their knowledge of What I am is no indicator of Who I am. Fact is the What of me. But, the Who I am is entirely personal and cannot be interpreted by anyone other than me. And I, often, do not even know who that is. So how, in their wildest dreams, could they know that person?