Fake Identity Quotes

Will you let me go for Christ's sake? Will you take that phony dream and burn it before something happens?

Why didn't you guys dress up?" Lindsey asks. "We did." Calliope cracks her first smile. "we're dressed as twins." Lindsey grins back. "Hmm, I see it now. Fraternal or identical?" "You'd be surprised how many people ask," Cricket says. "What do you tell them?" Lindsey asks. "That I have a penis." Oh God. My cheeks burn as they all burst into laughter. Think about something else, Dolores. ANYTHING else. Cucumbers, Bananas, Zucchini. AHHHH! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I turn my face away from them as Calliope fakes a yakking sound.

Frankly, I'm not responsible for other people's perceptions and what they consider real or fake. We must abolish the entitlement that deludes us into believing that we have the right to make assumptions about people's identities and project those assumptions onto their genders and bodies.

Well, it would have been easier if it were put on. But the only ruse of which I'm guilty is to have pretended for so long before coming to you that nothing was wrong. Pretending that the personalities did not exist has now caused me to lose about two days.

Sex. You can't lie to yourself sexually. If you don't want it, it's the most disgusting thing in the world.

My name is not Mara Dyer, but my lawyer told me I had to choose something. A pseudonym. A nom de plume, for all of us studying for the SATs. I know that having a fake name is strange, but trust me—it’s the most normal thing about my life right now. Even telling you this much probably isn’t smart. But without my big mouth, no one would know that a seventeen-year-old who likes Death Cab for Cutie was responsible for the murders. No one would know that somewhere out there is a B student with a body count. And it’s important that you know, so you’re not next.

When I wrote the previous letter, I had made up my mind I would show you how I could be very composed and cool and not need to ask you to listen to me nor to explain anything to me nor need any help. By telling you that all this about the multiple personalities was not really true but just put on, I could show, or so I thought, that I did not need you. Well, it would have been easier if it were put on.

And if we do speak out, we risk rejection and ridicule. I had a best friend once, the kind that you go shopping with and watch films with, the kind you go on holiday with and rescue when her car breaks down on the A1. Shortly after my diagnosis, I told her I had DID. I haven't seen her since. The stench and rankness of a socially unacceptable mental health disorder seems to have driven her away.

I thought Oliver was trying hard before, but now I realize it's quite the opposite-- he doesn't try, he just is, makes up his mind and doesn't check if it's going to work for his image or come off wrong. Since the rest of us are being so self-aware, his presence seems calculated. No one can possibly be that breezy, saying what he thinks, feeling what he feels. I can see why people don't like him for this very reason-- it's so much easier to call him a poser. Because if he's the real deal, then that makes the rest of us fakes.

Well, bingo, his name popped up in the database on this crime ring’s computer as one of their own. Sloane, Wilma, KazuKen, Celi-hag, BunnyMuff, were all part of the illegal and criminal cyber-bullying ring that used blackmail to extort celebrities and famous authors, musicians, schools like Aunt Sookie Acting Academy for money or they will post lies, false rumors, photo shopped fake photos, and accusations of fake awards, fake credentials on the internet. They did that to Summer and tried to do that with Aunt Sookie, apparently. But as seemingly innocent as they seem, using young girls’ photos as their supposed fake identities, they really were part of a larger crime ring.”, Loving Summer by Kailin Gow

Oh honey, have you learned nothing from these plays? Ain't such a line between faking and being.

It is so much more threatening to have something out of hand than to believe that at any moment I can stop (I started to say "This foolishness") any time I need to. When I wrote the previous letter, I had made up my mind I would show you how I could be very composed and cool and not need to ask you to listen to me nor to explain anything to me nor need any help. By telling you that all this about the multiple personalities was not really true but just put on, I could show, or so I thought, that I did not need you. Well, it would have been easier if it were put on. But the only ruse of which I'm guilty is to have pretended for so long before coming to you that nothing was wrong. Pretending that the personalities did not exist has now caused me to lose about two days. Three weeks later Sybil reaffirmed her belief in the existence of her other selves in a letter to Miss Updyke, the school nurse of undergraduate days.

After writing the letter Sybil lost almost two days. "Coming to," she stumbled across what she had written just before she had dissociated and wrote to Dr. Wilbur as follows: It's just so hard to have to feel, believe, and admit that I do not have conscious control over my selves. It is so much more threatening to have something out of hand than to believe that at any moment I can stop (I started to say "This foolishness") any time I need to. When I wrote the previous letter, I had made up my mind I would show you how I could be very composed and cool and not need to ask you to listen to me nor to explain anything to me nor need any help. By telling you that all this about the multiple personalities was not really true I could show, or so I thought, that I did not need you. Well, it would be easier if it were put on. But the only ruse of which I'm guilty is to have pretended for so long before coming to you that nothing was wrong. Pretending that the personalities did not exist has now caused me to lose about two days.

Fake people have no identity; they are just a number, not anywhere near a comma.

All year I've felt like I had to be on my best behavior, like I was auditioning for new friendships, new identities, a new life.

For years, Trump used fake identities to mislead journalists—and at least once to menace someone who was just doing their duty.

Since we don’t have a body to confirm identity, we believe Nathan Drake is alive and threatening people, which means he faked his own death. (Josie) And maybe fat flying fairies ate the rest of your blouse, which explains why so much of it’s missing. (Terri)

Multiple Personality Disorder—MPD—is not a game. It's not "acting" to impress anyone. Trust me, survivors do not receive positive attention for being multiple. Anyone who fakes it would be setting themselves up for a lot of rejection.

I don’t like the dinosaur in this graphic. It looks too fake. Use a real photo of a dinosaur instead.

The jet-fuel smell thick in the air, the flame and smoke surrounding you, you can only get to 011 and that's enough to make you foreign, to make you other, to make you Mexican. You take out your wallet and put an ID between your teeth so they can find you when it all collapses. Your flesh may burn but your teeth will remain and the ID will be there. It's a fake ID. Nobody will ever know you died. Nobody will ever know you lived.

Eventually, you have to decide who you are. You have to choose your role and own that identity. We don’t fake it till we make it. We believe it till we become it.

knotted up; frayed; faked own death; kept showing up in new clothes, new names; then leaving

You need my help? What for? Bread, cash, a fake identity to help you slip sideways through the cracks? Tell me what you need, tell me why I should help, and I'll see what I can do. In memory of Elphaba. You knew her." Her head titled again, but up, this time, and it was to keep the sudden wetness from spilling into her carefully colored false eyelashes. "You knew my Elphie!

Yet she knew too that she was deeply discontented and she sometimes suffered fierce feral moods of confused yearning during which it seemed to her that her whole life was a masquerade and that she was piously acting the part of a kindly affectionate serviceable woman who was just not herself.

Narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) causes problems in many areas of life, such as relationships, work, school or financial affairs. People with NPD may be generally unhappy and disappointed when they're not given the special favors or admiration, which they believe they deserve. They may find their relationships unfulfilling. Others may not enjoy being around them.

Many people roll their eyes at the ever-more-specific terms that crop up and believe that the more words there are, the less legitimate each particular one is. For skeptics, these terms smack of Tumblr and fake identities and people under the age of eighteen who are special snowflakes

High school was so typical and predictable. Everyone here was so occupied with discovering the definition of cool. To some, cool was Abercrombie and popped collars. Some thought cool was playing sports. Some thought cool was drinking before the homecoming dance. And others swore that cool was not trying to be cool: nonconformists with black nail polish, leather boots, and oversized safety pins in their ears. Our free expression was in so many ways just a restriction of our identities. All of us trying to be something we weren't. Even the nonconformists were conforming. High school, I guessed, was just a chapter, something standing in the way of real freedom. High school didn't even seem real. It seemed so fake.

Do you think they killed Oswald?” “No,” Christopher said. “If I’m right about how they handled him, it would have been wasteful. He didn’t know who they were. They must have told him they’d get him out after the shooting, set him up as a hero under a fake identity. He would have believed that.

There are all these relationships that are like cookie cutter shapes; identical and repetitive. Then there are all these relationships that aren't even relationships! Just facades for show and tell. But every once and a while, you'll see this bird breaking out of this cage and it's so weird and it's so obscure and you've hardly ever seen it before so you don't even know at first if you should name it Ugly or Beautiful! Relationships, stories of love, that just shatter the walls around the mind. They made it. They broke through. Like Ugly-Beautiful birds bursting forth from rusty cages! And then suddenly you stop and you think to yourself, "Maybe love really is real.

Education, or the repetition and internalization of set models and the childhood seen through the lens of this education are false. Not just the models taught in class, but all perceptual models made and turned absolute. For instance, when I was a child, I didn't actually know either St. Pierre or Burpface, yet I defined myself, predicated my identity on how they saw me and how I perceived how they saw me. The above dream has shown me that, since the identity I was taught was fake, childhood is a fake.

YOU DON’T HAVE TO ALWAYS TAKE SIDES! Did you know, that it is entirely possible to disagree with BOTH self-proclaimed nationalists & those deemed anti-nationals, BOTH right-wing & left-wing hardcores, BOTH ultra-religious people & atheists, BOTH vegans & meat-eaters, BOTH CrossFitters & non-CrossFitters, BOTH ‘cardio’ & ‘non-cardio’ folks, AND BOTH ‘low-carbers’ & ‘high-carbers’?! It’s called THINKING FOR YOURSELF! It gives you an identity. It‘s a highly pleasurable job too; it involves telling people off. I highly recommend it!

If you destroy your identity, if you cut all ties and fake your death, then what’s left? Something without labels, something with money and freedom.

What I notice is that everybody's kind of accusing everybody else of actingthese days. Know what I mean? Kind of, uh, not being genuine. Nobody believes the identities we've made for ourselves. I feel like everybody in the world is fake now - as though people had true cores once, but hucked them away and replaced them with something more attractive but also hollow.

Widespread cultural acceptance of lying is a primary reason many of us will never know love. It is impossible to nurture one's own or another's spiritual growth when the core of one's being and identity is shrouded in secrecy and lies. Trusting that another person always intends your good, having a core foundation of loving practice, cannot exist within a context of deception.

...when different identity states convey contradictory information and then have amnesia for what the other identity states said, the patient may be thought to be lying. This can appear to be characterological mendacity when it is not.

Does the person report having had the experience of meeting people she does not know but who seem to know her, perhaps by a different name? Often, those with DID are thought by others to be lying because different parts will say different things which the host has no knowledge of.

You know what they say about friends and enemies.’ Brochan nodded wisely. ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.’ My smile broadened. ‘Nah. I’m talking about what you call a fake friend.’ I received four identical eye rolls. I made an imaginary drum roll. ‘A faux, of course.

It is up to you that how you throw out all the masks you have and to show your an original and true identity if you remain with several fake faces and names, actually you are harming and hurting yourself, not the others, maybe others don't even care and notice your unwise efforts. Be always bold to move and tell and face the truth and reality.

Why do people have mid-life crises? It’s because they don’t know who they are. And suddenly they realise time is running out. They have to fight to be authentic, to be REAL. All the time, people are having breakdowns brought on by identity crises. They have lived their lives in bad faith. They have been fakes and phonies, frauds and impostors. They have impersonated human beings rather than actually being human beings. They have spent their whole lives in a state of alienation from themselves and from God. Isn’t it time we saved the human race from the controllers, the brainwashers, the identity constructors? People can never be free until they are free to become who they really are. As Nietzsche said, “We want to become those who we are – the new, the unique, the incomparable, those who impose on themselves their own law, those who create themselves!” Is that not the formula for a new, free world, a world of Supermen and Superwomen, a transformed world of individuals on the path to divinity? Revalue all values. Abolish Abrahamism. Abolish the control machine.

One often hears that today’s cultural war is fought between traditionalists who believe in a firm set of values and postmodern relativists who consider ethical rules, sexual identities, and so on as a result of contingent power games. But is this really the case? The ultimate postmodernists today are conservatives themselves. Once traditional authority loses its substantial power, it is not possible to return to it—all such returns today are a postmodern fake. Does Trump enact traditional values? No, his conservativism is a postmodern performance, a gigantic ego trip. Playing with “traditional values,” mixing references to tradition with open obscenities, Trump is the ultimate postmodern president, while Sanders is an old-fashioned moralist.

In today’s society, we cosset and care for our children on the one hand and then think nothing of allowing them out into the wide-open spaces of the internet from the privacy of their bedrooms, with little control, or supervision. Our children are ill equipped – because they’re not ready for it – to deal with the predators that stalk the pages of cyberspace, dressed up like the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood, hiding behind fake photographs and false identities. If we allow the media and other entities to continue to encourage our children to grow up too soon, we’ll be taking part in an experiment the likes of which...’ He looked down at the ledge behind the lectern, picked up the water jug and topped his glass up, before continuing, ‘the likes of which I don’t think we’ve ever seen before.

Susan’s and Jennifer’s job searches are likely made harder by the color of their skin. In the early 2000s, researchers in Chicago and Boston mailed out fake résumés to hundreds of employers, varying only the names of the applicants, but choosing names that would be seen as identifiably black or white. Strikingly, “Emily” and “Brendan” were 50 percent more likely to get called for an interview than “Lakisha” and “Jamal.” A few years later, a researcher at the University of Wisconsin conducted a similar study in Milwaukee, but with a unique twist. She recruited two black and two white actors (college students, posing as high school graduates) who were as similar as possible in every way. She sent these “job applicants” out in pairs, with virtually identical fake résumés, to apply for entry-level jobs. Her twist was to instruct one of the white and one of the black applicants to tell employers that they had a felony conviction and had just been released from prison the month before. Even the researcher was surprised by what she found: the white applicant with a felony conviction was more likely to get a positive response from a prospective employer than the black applicant with no criminal record. When the study was replicated in New York City a few years later, she and her colleagues saw similar results for Latino applicants relative to whites.

Everything I did was fake, an act, not because I was naturally or deliberately deceitful, but as a result of the years of abuse and rape. I had not been able to form my own personality or identity, and, because my childhood had been cruelly taken from me, I didn't know how I should react to certain situations, especially those where someone was showing me genuine kindness. I always believed that there would be some price to pay or a sexual act to be commited.

The story of Sybil is true, not fictional or fraudulent. One early commentator actually suggested that Sybil and Dr. Cornelia Wilbur, her treating psychiatrist, were a case of folie à deux, or shared psychosis (Victor, 1975). Having met Dr. Wilbur, listened to her presentations on multiple personality (now known as dissociative identity disorder), and read the many critiques and reviews of Sybil, I have concluded that Sybil was not iatrogenically created by Dr. Wilbur.

During the late nights, when my eyes are a little sunken, and heart is a little full. When my brain is a little poetic, and soul is a little dull. I pull, my phone and scroll, the Instagram. At that moment I feel how I, don't belong. Not to this. Not to this, which is everything perfect and everything bliss. The uphill battle, the tough grind, the donkey work- we all do. and we all want to decline. We end up opening Instagram, to put up a false pretty ME, and a fake perfect AM

She tasted disgusting, worse than Gurdyroots! Okay, Ron, come here so I can do you…” “Right, but remember, I don’t like the beard too long--” “Oh, for heaven’s sake, this isn’t about looking handsome--” “It’s not that, it gets in the way! But I liked my nose a bit shorter, try and do it the way you did last time.” Hermione sighed and set to work, muttering under her breath as she transformed various aspects of Ron’s appearance. He was to be given a completely fake identity, and they were trusting to the malevolent aura cast by Bellatrix to protect him. Meanwhile Harry and Griphook were to be concealed under the Indivisibility Cloak. “There,” said Hermione, “how does he look, Harry?” It was just possible to discern Ron under his disguise, but only, Harry thought, because he knew him so well. Ron’s hair was now long and wavy; he had a thick brown beard and mustache, no freckles, a short, broad nose, and heavy eyebrows. “Well, he’s not my type, but he’ll do,” said Harry.

Democrats have become the party of socialism, open borders, sanctuary cities, the elimination of Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE), underfunding the military, abortion on demand, infanticide, environmental extremism, gun confiscation, higher taxes, radical identity politics, suppression of free speech and religious expression, and among some Democratic members of Congress, undisguised anti-Semitism. They’re also the party of intolerance, smears, lies, character assassination, besmirchment, and fake Russian dossiers.

If you’ve ever signed up for a website and given a fake zip code or a fake birthday, you have violated the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act. Any child under thirteen who visits newyorktimes.com violates their Terms of Service and is a criminal—not just in theory, but according to the working doctrine of the Department of Justice.1 The examples I’ve laid out are extreme, sure, but the laws involved are so broadly written as to ensure that, essentially, every Internet-using American is a tort-feasing felon on a lifelong spree of depraved web browsing.

After we eat of the Apple of Knowledge, however, all of us start to be aware of ourselves, and our consciousness starts to be divided from our being. We start to have an image of ourselves which blocks our true expression. How do we go from there? There are two ways of dealing with this situation. The first is to find a self-image one is comfortable with. This is what most people do. It has some advantages since it causes the mind to operate reasonably undisturbed and it brings some peace to most people. People who find and maintain a self-image they are comfortable with are generally known as ‘happy people’. It doesn’t mean a whole lot, because in fact this image they are comfortable with is completely fake. There is another road, the road of learning to get rid of all self-imagery. This is a hard road however and requires one to pretty much battle for the rest of ones life (which isn’t a bad thing at all since the sense and meaning of life are essentially to put up a good battle). One develops techniques to stop identifying with ones self-image. The more these mechanisms behind self-imagery are mastered the more easy it becomes to switch and correct ones identities. At some point we can simply get rid of the self-image and be reborn as the child we once were, but a different child who has the triumph of knowledge in his pocket.

There have been proven instances of vote fraud in the past, but those cases involved election officials’ wrongdoing or the manipulation of absentee ballots. The kind of voter registration fraud that seized the imagination of GOP activists, on the other hand, which is based on stealing someone’s identity or creating a fake persona to cast a ballot, thus altering the results of an election, is in fact very rare. The convoluted scheme is not used because “it is an exceedingly dumb strategy.”25 To have real impact would require an improbable conspiracy involving millions of people. Robert Brandon, president of the Fair Elections Legal Network, notes, “You can’t steal an election one person at a time. You can by stuffing ballot boxes—but voter I.D.s won’t stop that.”26 Protecting

People often transpose the coming-out experience on me, asking how it felt to be in the closet, to have been stealth. These questions have always puzzled me. Unlike sexuality, gender is visible. I never hid my gender. Every day that I stepped out into the sunlight, unapologetically femme, I was a visible woman. People assume that I was in the closet because I didn’t disclose that I was assigned male at birth. What people are really asking is “Why didn’t you correct people when they perceived you as a real woman?” Frankly, I’m not responsible for other people’s perceptions and what they consider real or fake. We must abolish the entitlement that deludes us into believing that we have the right to make assumptions about people’s identities and project those assumptions onto their genders and bodies.

Say more about the Crips and the Bloods,” Richard said, stalling for time while he tried to get his mental house in order. “To us they look the same. Urban black kids with similar demographics and tastes. Seems like they all ought to pull together. But that’s not where they’re at. They are shooting each other to death because they see the Other as less than human. And I’m saying it has been the case for a long time in T’Rain that those people we have lately started calling the Earthtone Coalition have always looked at the ones we now call the Forces of Brightness and seen them as tacky, uncultured, not really playing the game in character. And what happened in the last few months was that the F.O.B. types just got tired of it and rose up and, you know, asserted their pride in their identity, kind of like the gay rights movement with those goddamned rainbow flags. And as long as it’s possible for those two groups to identify each other on sight, each one of them is going to see the other as, well, the Other, and killing people based on that is way more ingrained than killing them on this completely bogus and flimsy fake-Good and fake-Evil dichotomy that we were working with before.” “I get it,” Richard said. “But is that all we are? Just digital Crips and Bloods?” “What if it’s true?” Devin shrugged. “Then you’re not doing your fucking job,” Richard said. “Because the world is supposed to have a real story to it. Not just people killing each other over color schemes.” “Maybe you’re not doing yours,” Devin said. “How can I write a story about Good and Evil in a world where those concepts have no real meaning—no consequences?” “What sort of consequences do you have in mind? We can’t send people’s characters to virtual Hell.” “I know. Only Limbo.” They both laughed.

Humans making fake cave art to save real cave art may feel like Peak Anthropocene absurdity, but I confess I find it overwhelmingly hopeful that four kids and a dog named Robot discovered a cave containing seventeen-thousand-year-old handprints, that the two teenagers who could stay devoted themselves to the cave’s protection, and that when humans became a danger to that cave’s beauty, we agreed to stop going. We might have graffitied over the paintings, or kept on visiting them until the black mold ate them away entirely. But we didn’t. We let them live on by sealing them off. The cave paintings at Lascaux exist. You cannot visit. You can go to the fake cave we’ve built, and see nearly identical hand stencils, but you will know: This is not the thing itself, but a shadow of it. This is a handprint, but not a hand. This is a memory that you cannot return to. And to me, that makes the cave very much like the past it represents.

Unlike GTA, in real life, the law is a thing and jail is a thing. But that's about where the differences end. If someone gave you a perfect simulation of today's world to play in and told you that it's all fake with no actual consequences - with the only rules being that can't break the law or harm anyone, and you still have to make sure to support you and your family's basic needs - what would you do? My guess is that most people would do all kinds of things they'd love to do in their real life but wouldn't dare to try, and by behaving that way they'd end up quickly getting a life going on in the simulation that's both far more successful and much truer to themselves than the real life they're currently living. Removing the fear and the concern with identity or the opinions of others would thrust the person into the not-actually-risky Chef Lab and have them bouncing around all the exhilarating places outside their comfort zone - and their lives would take off. That's the life irrational fears blocks us from.

Let me ask you something,” she continued. “This is a thought game what Kaiki used to jaw about─fancy you have the real thing, and a fake that is so identical, in every way, that you can’t distinguish it from the real thing. Which do you reckon has more value?” A natural and an artificial diamond. They were identical down to their atomic structure─but treated as distinct. Indistinguishable, yet treated as distinct. One was rejected─simply for being a fake. Omitted. “The real deal and─the fake.” “My reckoning on the matter was naturally that the real thing is more valuable. I think Oshino was of the opinion that they were of equal value. But according to the body what asked the question, we were both mistaken. According to Kaiki, the fake is far more valuable.” Kagenui went on without waiting for my reply. “Because it wills to become the real thing, the fake is more real than the real deal─kakak! He may be an incorrigible scoundrel, but what he says can be glorious. Well, if I have to, I reckon that’s the lesson I should take home from this. A lesson ten years in the making.

What he seeks is power over reality and over men’s means of perceiving it, their mind, the power to interpose his will between existence and consciousness, as if, by agreeing to fake the reality he orders them to fake, men would, in fact, create it. “Just as the mystic is a parasite in matter, who expropriates the wealth created by others—just as he is a parasite in spirit, who plunders the ideas created by others—so he falls below the level of a lunatic who creates his own distortion of reality, to the level of a parasite of lunacy who seeks a distortion created by others. “There is only one state that fulfills the mystic’s longing for infinity, non-causality, non-identity: death. No matter what unintelligible causes he ascribes to his incommunicable feelings, whoever rejects reality rejects existence—and the feelings that move him from then on are hatred for all the values of man’s life, and lust for all the evils that destroy it. A mystic relishes the spectacle of suffering, of poverty, subservience and terror; these give him a feeling of triumph, a proof of the defeat of rational reality. But no other reality exists.

It was important to me back then to feel, to be wily. To feel small, slick, quick, amphibious, dexterous, capable. I didn’t know then Barthes’s book The Neutral, but if I had, it would have been my anthem—the Neutral being that which, in the face of dogmatism, the menacing pressure to take sides, offers novel responses: to flee, to escape, to demur, to shift or refuse terms, to disengage, to turn away. The otter was thus a complex sort of stand-in, or fake-out, another identity I felt sure I could shimmy out of. But whatever I am, or have since become, I know now that slipperiness isn’t all of it. I know now that a studied evasiveness has its own limitations, its own ways of inhibiting certain forms of happiness and pleasure. The pleasure of abiding. The pleasure of insistence, of persistence. The pleasure of obligation, the pleasure of dependency. The pleasures of ordinary devotion. The pleasure of recognizing that one may have to undergo the same realizations, write the same notes in the margin, return to the same themes in one’s work, relearn the same emotional truths, write the same book over and over again-not because one is stupid or obstinate or incapable for change, but because such revisitations constitute a life.

Gone are those days when media platforms were available to few individuals like politicians, movie stars, artists,sports sensations, civil right activists, and religious scholars. =Today social media gives people an easy way to almost everything =It is very easy to learn from others who are experts and professionals,Regardless of your location and education background you can educate yourself, without paying for it. =It even reveals good and Mabošaedi of the most respected people who are role models to others = You can share your issues with the community and get help within an hour . = The main advantage of the social media is that you update yourself from the latest happenings around in the world. = you can promote your business to the largest audience and even employ people But it can also damage your life for good = Since anyone can create a fake account and do anything without being traced, it has become quite easy for people to frustrate others and do a damage to their names or life. = Personal data and privacy can easily be hacked and shared on the Internet. Which can make financial losses and loss to personal life. Similarly, identity theft is another issue that can give financial losses to anyone by hacking their personal accounts. This is one of the dangerous disadvantages of the social media and it even made people kill them selfs. = Addiction destroyed many families and employments.

When I was younger, I remember taking pride in people’s well-meaning remarks: “You’re so lucky that no one would ever know!” or “You don’t even look like a guy!” or “Wow! You’re prettier than most ‘natural’ women!” They were all backhanded compliments, acknowledging my beauty while also invalidating my identity as a woman. To this day, I’m told in subtle and obvious ways that I am not “real,” meaning that I am not, nor will I ever be, a cis woman; therefore, I am fake. These thoughts surrounding identity, gender, bodies, and how we view, judge, and objectify all women brings me to the subject of “passing,” a term based on an assumption that trans people are passing as something that we are not. It’s rooted in the idea that we are not really who we say we are, that we are holding a secret, that we are living false lives. Examples of people “passing” in media, whether through race (Imitation of Life and Nella Larsen’s novel Passing), class (Catch Me if You Can and the reality show Joe Millionaire), or gender (Boys Don’t Cry and The Crying Game), are often portrayed as leading a life of tragic duplicity and as deceivers who will be punished harshly by society when their true identity is uncovered. This is no different for trans people who “pass” as their gender or, more accurately, are assumed to be cis or blend in as cis, as if that is the standard or norm. This pervasive thinking frames trans people as illegitimate and unnatural. If a trans woman who knows herself and operates in the world as a woman is seen, perceived, treated, and viewed as a woman, isn’t she just being herself? She isn’t passing ; she is merely being.

Don't worry if others judge you, just keep smiling and be yourself... If you're affected by the judging and all, it means that you lose- You lost your identity You lost your real self, Plus.. You'll lose your heart... And you'll be a 'fake', just like everyone less, who only know to judge others and doesn't have any identity of theirselves... And that is the reason why they judge you; To make you lose your identity....!

More often than not, DID is dissimulated and camouflaged, so it is important to understand that, although its processes and structures may be active and powerful, its manifestations may be subtle.

It is up to you that how you throw out all the masks that you have and to show your one original and real identity if you remain with several fake faces and names, you are harming and hurting yourself, not the others, maybe others don't even care and notice your unwise efforts. Always be bold to move and tell and face the truth and reality.

Traditional rock music favors a working-class body with callused hands and a whisky-rough voice, and by denying this particular brand of physicality the body of electronic music was easily heard as lazy, weak, undisciplined, and effete. The criticism in the 1980s and 1990s that electronic musicians were fake or talentless, then, is a response to a perceived threat against a specific bodily identity as encoded in sound—an identity within a narrow range of class, gender, sexual orientation, and race. As

Your travels will take you through some interesting and exciting twists and turns. It can be scary. At some point you will confront a belief you really want to be true, that may even be part of your identity, but that does not stand up to close scrutiny. Ultimately this is a journey of self-discovery, and hopefully this book will serve as a guide on that journey.

Let’s consider the leader who forgets that he is a sinner saved by grace and not his own efforts, the leader who finds his identity not in Christ but in his pastoring: how will his ministry play out? If he slips into thinking he is justified by his works—and the most orthodox Christian can make this error—he will be driven by his works. If he forgets he is a sinner saved by grace, he may try to fake his own perfection in front of his people. This is surprisingly common! If he forgets the cross and his justification before God and seeks to find his worth instead in the approval of others, he will never lead, but will merely pander to whatever makes him popular.

You’ve probably mistaken me for someone I’m not because I’ve been acting like someone I’m not.

Corruption, senility, and brutality emerge in democratically elected governments, of course, but the whole point of a viably designed democracy is to provide a persistent baseline for society. You can vote in new politicians without killing a democratic government, while a free market is a fake if companies aren't allowed to die due to competition. When giant remote companies own everyone's digital identities, they become "too big to fail," which is a state of affairs that degrades both markets and governments.

Economists often tell a variant of the tale about an entrepreneur who introduces a good—say a toaster—costing far less than alternatives. He credits the lower price to new technology. Happy consumers flock to his toaster. They stop buying expensive toasters and call him a genius who has increased the purchasing power of their income. Then he reveals that he did not invent a new process. He bought the cheap toasters in China. So this was his great revolution. This was a fake miracle, people say. And he is bashed because the Chinese are taking away jobs. The two outcomes are identical, but people don’t see them that way.

One of the most disturbing experiences I've had in my life has been to realize, again and again over the years, how impossible it is to speak to the heart, to the deep conscience of individuals who have exchanged their genuine personality for a group or ideological stereotype. [...] In the beginning, it's not really an exchange. The stereotype is adopted as a covering, a sign of identity, a password that facilitates the subject's integration into a social group and, by freeing them from their isolation, makes them feel even more human. Then the progressive identification with the group's values and objectives replaces direct perceptions and initial feelings with a schematic imitation of the group's behavior and mental traits, until concrete individuality, with all its irreducible mystery, disappears under the mask of collective identity. [...] The desensitization of the deep conscience corresponds, by contrast, to a hypersensitization of the surface, a fake susceptibility, a predisposition to feel offended or threatened by any little thing that opposes the will of the group.

As you can see, you can actually change the way you feel merely by changing your body posture or facial expression. It is what some people call “fake it until you make it.” For instance, you can put a smile on your face to make you feel happier. Conversely, you can negatively affect your mood and even create a depression by changing your body posture. David K. Reynolds, in his book Constructive Living, explained how he changed his identity for his alter ego, David Kent, and created a depressed, suicidal patient. The goal was to be accepted as an anonymous patient into various psychiatric facilities to assess them from the inside. Note that he wasn’t simulating depression, he was actually depressed. Psychological tests proved it. Here is how he created depression: Depression can be created by sitting slouched in a chair, shoulders hunched, head hanging down. Repeat these words over and over: ‘There’s nothing anybody can do. No one can help. It’s hopeless. I’m helpless. I give up.’ Shake your head, sigh, cry. In general, act depressed and the genuine feeling will follow in time. ​— ​DAVID K. REYNOLDS, CONSTRUCTIVE LIVING.

People who are faking who they are or who are faking everything in their life. Get easily offended by everything.

The duke raises his arm and sort of flicks his wrist, and they swoop into action, coming at me with a platter full of food. The first guy is holding a tower of eggs. Ew. I don’t do eggs. “Oh, um, no thank you, I’m not an egg person.” All noise stops. Everyone stares at me. Am I not supposed to talk to the servants? I smile weakly at the duke and his mother as the servant walks away, and another approaches with ham. I clamp my mouth shut as he plops a hearty portion down on my plate. My mouth is suddenly very dry. I turn to the servant standing motionless behind me. “Can I get some water?” Yeah. Definitely not supposed to talk to them. The guy’s eyes flicker over to the old lady, as if he needs permission to get me some water. “There is lemonade in front of you,” the old lady says. “Oh.” Is that what that is? I take a quick swallow and try not to choke. This obviously is not Country Time, if you know what I mean. I was starving ten minutes ago, but now that I’m sitting in the same room as these weird people, my appetite is gone. This breakfast needs to be over, stat. I can barely keep up with the glove and servant etiquette; I’m bound to screw something up. I need to maintain my fake identity, wrangle a ride to town, and say sayonara.

They called themselves socialists, and in some ways they were model socialists, fighting for the rights of workers, the way a lot of Europeans are socialists now. They hide behind their fake egalitarian principles, but really nothing has changed. Outwardly, they’re no longer anti-Jewish. Instead they’re now anti-Israel, but they’re still filled with hatred. They have all these grand ideas, with culture and cathedrals and their music, but actually they’re all just hooligans who want to kill people, identical to their anti-Semitic ancestors.

But I've learned that if you fake your death, don't come back. Not for your wife. Not for your girlfriend. Not for your kids. If you fake your death, don't do it at sea. Go for a hike. If you're interested in claiming a life insurance payout, don't get greedy. Keep the policy modest. Don't bother with a stand-in body and an elaborate funeral. Spend your time and money on obtaining quality authenticating documents. In your new life, commit to a disguise for your new identity and use your real first name. Don't google yourself and lead your hunters to your hideout. And for the love of God, don't drive if you're supposed to be dead. Ditch the car.

Most people play someone else's role or wear mask of other people because they don't think about what they are created for

Barry took his sunglasses off and peeled back what was revealed as a fake mustache, raising his finger to his lips in an effort to keep his identity a secret. It was President Barack Obama.               Air

In Spain, they are called paradores and in Portugal pousadas, but the concept is essentially identical. Across the length and breadth of both countries, historically important buildings, including palaces, convents, monasteries, castles, mansions, and forts have been converted to small hotels or large inns, all owned by the government. The programs serve two important purposes, protecting and in many cases rescuing these centuries-old structures that otherwise could not afford maintenance and upkeep and offering tourists a distinctly immersive (and affordable) way to explore the countries.

demanded a birth certificate, relatives’ names and addresses, employment and criminal history for the last ten years, even tax returns. Preparing an undercover identity involved an elaborate operation. Gringo and JD had to create fake records—including school, credit, and work history—that corroborated their fictitious lives.

FLATOW: So you would - how would you treat a patient like Sybil if she showed up in your office BRAND: Well, first I would start with a very thorough assessment, using the current standardized measures that we have available to us that assess for the range of dissociative disorders but the whole range of other psychological disorders, too. I would need to know what I'm working with, and I'd be very careful and make my decisions slowly, based on data about what she has. And furthermore, with therapists who are well-trained in dissociative disorders, we do keep an eye open for suggestibility. But that research, too, is not anywhere near as strong as what the other two people in the interview are suggesting.It shows - for example, there's eight studies that have a total of 11 samples. In the three clinical samples that have looked at the correlation between dissociation and suggestibility, all three clinical samples found non-significant correlations. So it's just not as strong as what people think. That's a myth that's not backed up by science." Exploring Multiple Personalities In 'Sybil Exposed' October 21, 2011 by Ira Flatow

But, look at it from the Hindu angle: Hindus had the good grace to give asylum to the Christian refugees in AD 345, allowing them to maintain their separate identity in full freedom for seven centuries, and now the thanks they get for it is that visitors of the Saint Thome cathedral are told about fanatical Brahmins murdering the noble founder of Indian Christianity. And then the secularist establishment makes it worse by blocking the public's access to the scholarly vire and continuing to instil the blood-libel legend. It is highly significant for the power equation in India that this state of affairs is possible at all.

But the final Remembrance parade for this historical regiment was marred by the discovery of a man’s body an hour ago. The police have not released his identity, but he is believed to be wearing military uniform and to be in his mid-forties. His body was discovered by an elderly man, slumped against the Woolmarket ram sculpture, in

I’d have to transfer to a new school and wear a weird DISGUISE, like maybe a cheap wig and fake mustache, to hide my true identity. Then I’d be even LESS popular than

I had many followers with my false identity, but what was identity anyway? We let people believe what they saw. We posted our good sides instead of our bad. The world was full of fake people with plastic personalities.

Beauty Makeover doesn't promote fakeness or being photo copy a by doing that you abuse it.

It is up to you how you throw out all the masks that you have and show your one original and real identity; if you remain with several fake faces and names, you are harming and hurting yourself, not the others; maybe others don't even care and notice your unwise efforts. Always be bold to move and tell and face the truth and reality.

You begin to find comfort in simple and essential stuff as your soul expands, but you create apathy for a repetitive career, a toxic relationship, fake human relationships, etc. I don't suggest you give up your simple life in order to awaken your spirit. It's nice to have healthy relationships and love-filled interactions with others, but you may find yourself challenging other issues about your identity, relationships and laws created by society at the beginning of soul awakening. You find yourself in a bond with nature  When you felt alive in the vicinity of nature and felt grateful for seeing the landscapes, plants, wildlife, stars, mountains, etc., you may have developed a rare and precious connection with nature. It is no wonder that knowledge has been raised by those who find peace in existence. Such people know their priorities in life and are grateful to God for creating this beautiful world. You may also become more conscious of the rights of climate and animals. You might want to plant trees and live in a place to breathe in the fresh air.

Let’s consider the leader who forgets that he is a sinner saved by grace and not his own efforts, the leader who finds his identity not in Christ but in his pastoring: how will his ministry play out? If he slips into thinking he is justified by his works—and the most orthodox Christian can make this error—he will be driven by his works. If he forgets he is a sinner saved by grace, he may try to fake his own perfection in front of his people. This is surprisingly common! If he forgets the cross and his justification before God and seeks to find his worth instead in the approval of others, he will never lead, but will merely pander to whatever makes him popular. In other words, for the leader to have strength of purpose, integrity, and the ability not to be driven (and burned out) by his ministry, he must maintain a solid grasp on the cross and so on his justification.

If you keep the distinction between speech and violence clear in your mind, then many more options are available to you. As Marcus Aurelius advised, "Choose not to be harmed- and you won't feel harmed. Don't feel harmed- and you haven't been." The more ways your identity can be threatened by casual daily interactions, the more valuable it will be to cultivate the Stoic (and Buddhist, and CBT) ability to not be emotionally reactive, to not let others control your mind and your cortisol levels... words don't cause stress directly; they can only provoke stress and suffering in a person who has interpreted those words as posing a threat.

We seek the liberation that comes from recognizing the self that is not defined by grasping, and is therefore capable of recognizing its original state. Then why am I on this journey, and what am I seeking? Right now I am seeking to let go of the illusory hats that I am wearing on this illusory head, and that live inside this mind that is falsified by confusion and muddled by misperception, hats that have never existed, all of them fake identities, created by a fake-identity mind, sustained by a fabricated constructed self, affirmed by warped perceptions, held in place by habit... and because they are not real, they can pass through and I am not stuck with them, and I will not be stuck with them. I will add them to the fire. I will toss the coiled grass rope of these hat identities onto the flames. And then? Will I turn to ash, become "merely" Mingyur Rinpoche? Or will I just become a corpse—a living corpse or a dead corpse? Being alive without waking up to the truth of emptiness is like joining the waking dead.

And then she kissed him. Because she realized life was too short for purgatory. And he was being completely honest with her. Love wasn’t always like the movies. There were many paths it took and not all of them were straightforward. Some were murky and dark with shadows and some had obstacles and secrets to be unearthed before people could find their way to each other. But whatever the path, it only required a person to carry three things to navigate it: a sense of humor, hope, and above all else forgiveness.

Whatever people say about ‘false memories’ (which is mostly false, anyway) and whatever we feel about possibly making it all up, we can’t fake emotional illiteracy and screwed-up attachment patterns! That’s the real evidence of what happened to us. Someone who has had a car crash might have no memory of what happened, but they’ve got the evidence in terms of a mangled car and broken legs. I think it’s the same for us – we’ve got mangled emotions and broken personalities.

There was nothing fake about Lisa. The more I thought about my made-up name, the phonier it felt to me. I wasn’t Romeo. I wasn’t Blue. I wasn’t some fabricated wannabe. I was a musician dead set on being real. It suddenly became clear that my pseudonym was getting in the way of that. It was the immature me looking to be cool. But coolness comes from within. You can’t fake it. You can’t name it into being. You have to grow it organically. I had a lot invested in Romeo Blue. I thought of him as an alter ego, without any of the problems facing Lennie. When I first came up with this new identity, it gave me confidence. But now it felt false. Romeo Blue was out. But what name was in? At first, I thought I’d go to the other extreme and call myself Leonard Kravitzky (my grandfather’s real last name before he hit Ellis Island); I actually ordered business cards carrying that name. Looking at them, though, I felt it was just too classical, like “Igor Stravinsky.” No, the easiest answer was the simplest: the real me, the real name. The only change was in the spelling: “Lennie” became “Lenny” because, on paper, I liked the shape of the y more than the ie. It looked stronger. I was Lenny Kravitz. Despite the name I’d invented and the image I’d adopted, I’d always been Lenny Kravitz. But it took Lisa to inspire me to find myself.

I never escaped the pinpoint pain of the term "White Indian." I scoffed at it. I made fun of it and refuted it. I joked about it with friends and family to prove to myself how much I didn't care. Ever since then, though, a stem of fear sprouts in me. When I hear someone move fluently through their own tribal tongue, I flinch at their authenticity. When I watch other Natives dance in elaborate ceremonial regalia, I swallow my awe so it can instead fester into shame. This feeling of being fake doesn't influence reality. I am still dark enough to get stopped at airport security, followed around stores, stopped by police in border states, talked down to by people paler than me, and asked racist questions about where I'm from or what kind of magic powers I have. I still get treated like a liar or a relic when I tell someone I'm Native. I still feel a rooted, thrumming connection to the beach and the ground whenever I go home to Sequim, to where my tribe is. I still keep a mental record of all the stories I have learned, either from family or from historic documents. None of it validates me enough to remove the blight of impostor syndrome.

We're on our way to the Grand Canyon!" the woman said. She used big gestures and smiled too wide in her "I Heart Albuquerque" tank top. She was clearly a morning person. "Oh, that's cool!" Miranda said, equally as cheery. "We're from Arizona. You're going to love it; it's beautiful there." "That's what we've heard!" She leaned down, pressing both of her hands into the table. "And we paid for the tour into the Canyon. We're going to go down into it and see real, live Indians!" Miranda immediately began to laugh. She bent over her plate of muffins, body shaking and eyes squeezed shut. The woman's face was blank, then slowly morphed into offended confusion. Her hands were still pressed into the table, and she turned her full attention toward me; now her posture looked more like a cop conducting an interrogation. She said nothing but her face shouted, 'What's so funny?' "She's laughing because I'm actually Native American," I said. I resisted the urge to do jazz hands at this woman, and instead offered up whatever a fake smile looks like at too-damn-early in the morning.

Nobody believes the identities we've made for ourselves. I feel like everybody in the world is fake now—as though people had true cores once, but hucked them away and replaced them with something more attractive but also hollow.

Percy is, indeed, a bold and engaging character, and I think that in Percy we can detect something of the artistic dilemmas Peake himself was confronting at the time. Percy is a natural actor, but happens also to be painfully shy, and so adopts the persona of the wild artist – October Trellis – after faking his own suicide, in order to woo Sally Devius. To bury oneself in a false identity, albeit to attain the object of one’s dreams, is indeed a kind of suicide or death. Peake’s pursuit of theatrical success, likewise, was at the cost of the fundamental fidelity of the artist to his own imagination. Ultimately, Peake and Percy rip away “the little civilized twigs” and arrive at “the original branch/ Naked and unadorned”, succeeding in winning Sally as well as remaining true to his real identity. Sadly, financial success eluded Peake, and in The Wit to Woo, when it is considered artistically, his powerful, individual imagination is muted, and is only in evidence once we look beneath the play’s more conventional façade.

Percy is, indeed, a bold and engaging character, and I think that in Percy we can detect something of the artistic dilemmas Peake himself was confronting at the time. Percy is a natural actor, but happens also to be painfully shy, and so adopts the persona of the wild artist – October Trellis – after faking his own suicide, in order to woo Sally Devius. To bury oneself in a false identity, albeit to attain the object of one’s dreams, is indeed a kind of suicide or death. Peake’s pursuit of theatrical success, likewise, was at the cost of the fundamental fidelity of the artist to his own imagination. Ultimately, Peake and Percy rip away “the little civilized twigs” and arrive at “the original branch/ Naked and unadorned”, succeeding in winning Sally as well as remaining true to his real identity. Sadly, financial success eluded Peake, and in The Wit to Woo, when it is considered artistically, his powerful, individual imagination is muted, and is only in evidence once we look beneath the play’s more conventional façade.

Each one of you carries a quiet genius and a triumphant hero within your hearts. Dismiss these as idealistic words of an elderly inspirationalist if you wish. But I’m proud to be an idealist. Our world needs more of us. And yet, I am also a realist. And here’s the truth: Most people on the planet today don’t think much of themselves, unfortunately. They secure their identity by who they are externally. They evaluate their achievement by what they’ve collected versus by the character they’ve cultivated. They compare themselves to the orchestrated—and fake—highlight reels presented by the people they follow. They measure their self-worth by their net worth. And they get kidnapped by the false thought that because something has never been done it can’t be done—depleting the grand and electrifying possibilities their lives are meant to become. This explains why the majority is sinking in the quicksand of uncertainty, boredom, distraction and complexity.

Hatred against Minorities has touched heights. 1st Muslims & now Christians. Hindu man erasing painting of Muslim and Christian identity symbols from the street Wall. He filmed it and posted on Instagram where he appreciated from Hindutva society.

Why are you fighting me, to accept you the way you are ? When you are faking, acting and pretending the way you are to me.