Identity is relative. Far from an expression of oneself, it is largely a performance for others, a pantomime in the limelight of another’s gaze. We have no self-concept except the one reflected in the imagined eyes of others. We can’t be someone without someone to be someone for.
Vestiges. But, in my experience at least, I tend to quickly forget who I am (or rather, consider myself to be) while alone, and so I make no effort to fit any behavioural mould.