The Final Hour

Have you ever felt like you are multiple people at the same time? Juan José Millás says that he has never had a stable self; instead of a single identity, he is like an archipelago of selves, each one for a different occasion. Imagine a mirror broken into a thousand pieces: in each fragment, there is a version of you, but none is the real one. Millás explains that there is a self that eats, one that reads, one that goes to the movies, another that is a father, and one – now an orphan – that sits in the funeral home cafeteria remembering its parents. Each one appears depending on the situation, and none of them communicate with the others. That's why, he says, he needs so much love: because love acts like glue, bringing all those loose pieces together. There are very specific details that make this more than just philosophy: Millás describes how, at the pharmacy, he adopts a submissive self that pronounces the names of medications with seriousness and nods to everything the pharmacist tells him. In contrast, at a bookstore, an insolent self emerges, using arrogance to mask his inferiority complex. The most curious thing is that these selves don't even recognize each other: the self at the pharmacy ignores the self at the bookstore, just as the self at funerals ignores the self at weddings. And here comes the question that changes everything: Will all these selves die at once, like a general blackout, or will they disappear one by one? Which one will be in charge of your last breath? Millás wonders if those quiet selves, which have almost never come to the fore, will demand their moment in the spotlight at the very last hour. Perhaps identity is not a single thing, but rather a kind of temporary peace treaty between all the versions of oneself. With a touch of irony, Millás calls it identity: a simple, provisional agreement that gives us the feeling of unity. Now, pause for a moment. We are used to thinking that we are a single, solid, and coherent person. But what if, in reality, we are a disjointed multitude that only manages to reach agreement from time to time? Imagine the number of decisions and memories that could have been made by other selves you almost never see. Here's the unexpected twist: what we call “being ourselves” may be nothing more than a truce between conflicting versions. So the next time you ask yourself who you are, consider that perhaps the answer is: it depends on which pharmacy, bookstore, or funeral home you happen to be in. In a nutshell: Identity is not a fortress; it is an impromptu gathering of a thousand selves that can barely stand each other. If you recognize yourself in this fragmented view, you can mark it in Lara Notes with I'm In — it's not a 'like'; it's your way of saying: This idea is already part of me. And if you ever share this story with someone, in Lara Notes you can use Shared Offline to indicate that the conversation was worthwhile and deserves to be remembered. This Note comes from El País and has saved you 6 minutes of reading time.