What true self?

Is there only one person I can rightly become, lightly?
Was my true self,existing before the sperm was swallowed by the egg
or are there many paths and many selves, none true or afew
For truth itself is fuzzy ,I don’t mean fake or dizzy
But it lacks hard edges, persuading us we are in the world’s eye.
rather than a bag of bones, of possible paths to roam

If I had not had the accident, if he had not oicked my bike
If I’d opened my bank account at Barclays, or said what I liked
If I was not so silent or less hearty
If I had not seen you at the party,
If you eyes had been hard or less sharp

Did I mould myself around you, would that be false?
As if being intertwined were a trick to test how we are vulnerable
And if we became one,
What am I now, with you gone?