Who is it ?

When the writer is writing this who is he talking to?? And this strangely is a very difficult question. In this exploration as previously said ,“It’s not that the writer conjures up a writing ……instead the writing is conjuring up what is called as a writer……”, there is not a pinch of certainty; the uncertain is delving into the unknown . So in essence it could also be stated that the writer is talking to himself. Self is the keyword here. Something on the periphery has become interested to find out the core. A spoke on the periphery wants to know its hub. But the paradox or irony of the situation is that in talking to himself (loudly) the writer is talking to everyone else. As no matter how apart or oppositely aligned various spokes of a wheel maybe….. at their core they are held together by one single hub alone. 4 years later and despite the maddening current of a variety of experiences the writer still finds the premise of “self integrity”, integrating oneself completely with oneself without a miniscule of contradiction, as relevant. In fact the experience of the past years has rather infused conviction to his thought of “self integrity”. And hence we begin with the question we began 4 years ago “why do I feel so scattered?”……. “Why is there not a singular stream of thought and feeling within me?”……. “Why should I be thinking and feeling thoughts within me that are contradictory to my own dreams and desires?”…….. And the answer to all these questions could be explored from the point of view of reaching to the hub of self. Everything is alright but “who am I?” to begin with. I want to clearly delineate my self. Who is it that dreams the dreams? …….who is it that chases the desires? Who is it who fears the fears?...... “who is it who asks “who am I?””