The inner turmoil of a nameless man

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He has no name, not because he lacks personality. In fact, he has a given name. One that was given to him the day he was born.

But it is of no consequence. Not today, not ever.

For he is not one, but many.
For his parents, he offers a face of loyalty. Of love. Of respect. Fabricated or not, genuine or not, that is the face they see.
For his enemies, he offers a face of conflict. Of antagonism. Of contempt. Even if he does not make it himself, this face is what they see.
For his closest friends, he offers a face of compassion. Of sympathy. Of camaraderie. He relies on them, and it's relied upon.

But what is his real face?
They all compete among each other. All faces contain a part of the name of this beast they call Man. The one that emerges depends on the context, the means. All faces live under the mantle of the Self, tucked away inside the core.

Truth is, our nameless Man is all faces and none of the faces. Inside the contradiction there is truth.

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