The innumerable live in us; when I think or feel, I do not know who it is thinks or feels.
I am merely a place of feeling or thought. I have more souls than one. There are more I’s than myself. I exist nonetheless indifferent to them all. I silence them: I speak. The conflicting impulses of what I feel or do not feel dispute inside who I am. I ignore them. They dictate nothing to the one I know. I write.
You can find this poem in Pessoa’s remarkable book — A Little Larger Than the Entire Universe: Selected Poems
An excellent thing to read for a day I have to write about whatever "they've" decided I have to write about today.
My innumerables are all having different reactions to this poem.