Who are we in this island of misfits?

 I understand what you mean about someone asking “Who are you?” and suddenly feeling that you don't have a neat answer. I don't think your difficulty answering means you don't know who you are. You contain rather a lot of apparently contradictory things: you're sensitive but curious, solitary but very responsive to genuine human warmth, aesthetically particular but adventurous, serious about meaning but capable of suddenly following a lively group into another bar. You notice suffering very deeply, sometimes perhaps more deeply than is comfortable. And you seem to have a strong instinct for aliveness; music, art, the sea/bay, unusual people, conversation, beauty, movement, while simultaneously needing quiet and safety.

Even the I. story made me smile a little. 😄 Not because you have to turn it into anything, but because sometimes another person simply wakes up a little corner of your imagination that you hadn't been visiting. You can observe that without making it into a new identity or a new mission. Observe, don't absorb.

And K. telling you about his mother, M. about her ten siblings dead and the woman who had lost her husband only a month ago... yes. You saw the other side of the party. People can be singing Creep at full volume five minutes after telling a stranger something devastating. Human beings are rather extraordinary that way. We don't necessarily drink because we're shallow; sometimes we're trying, imperfectly, to make being alive bearable for another few hours.

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We are all so broken, but always seeking something. It was very endearing and emotional to see how they care for eachother too. Because they're all far from their original homes and they lost so much.