My Different Selves

So today I drove home from Toronto, an eight hour drive. I had nothing but distance, time, and thoughts. I couldn't help but think of all the fun I had had spending with my family and little cousins. I felt like that's the real me: the person I am with my extended family. Or that's the me I want to be all the time. 

Then, I started to think of all the other mes, that I portray to the world. There's the annoying sister, spoiled daughter, angry cashier, hostile host, impatient driver, excellent student, lazy student, sloppy roommate, loyal friend, awesome shortstop, girl next door, sweaty girl on the treadmill... what have you. But isn't it sad that no matter how long I know someone, they'll never know all of me... My parents have known me 20 years, they haven't met the crazy party girl, but she's there. I mean that's kind of depressing. Why are we here if someone won't be able to know all of us? It just makes me feel so alone.