Do they see me?

I'm compelled by what people say,
Having to pretend is no fun,
Sometimes I wish everything would go my way.

Some people know who I am,
Others know me as who I should be,
For they all call me Ma'am.

In one self I am friendly and open,
In another I am alone and like it that way,
I wish that I was always outspoken.

I wonder if people really like me,
they ask me to tag along,
Is it really me that they see?