Who am I

Who the hell am I?
Sitting in an enigma of fog and confusion,
my life is a series of masks
perhaps, or is it the truth, pure and simple?

I sit in an enigma of fog and confusion.
Am I a studious genius or a lazy idiot?
Or are they both the truth, pure and simple?
That doesn't make much sense, but neither do I?

Am I a studious genius or a lazy idiot?
I think they might both be true, like Schrodinger's cat.
That doesn't make much sense, but neither do I.
If that's true, the identity is determined by the observer.

I think these might both be true, like Schrodinger's cat:
I'm a model student and a societal outcast.
Which means, the identity is chosen by the observer.
But then, without an observer, what am I?

I'm a model student and a societal outcast.
I put on masks to satisfy others.
But then, without the others, what am I?
Remove the mask, and what lies beneath?

I put on masks to satisfy others.
My life is simply a series of masks.
Remove the mask, and who is underneath?
Who the hell am I?