Monday, October 5, 2015

The Naming (10/14)

*The origin of [this][]. Paraphrased through the filter of my memories, but this is the story of how I was named.*


I was told from the start -- middle -- *somewhere* in all of this that at some point he would find a name for me. We had many conversations over the last year or two; some brief and in passing, some querying.

*I do not want one,* I told him the first time, *because that is very long-term and scary.*

He told me that he understood, and that he would wait for if and when the right time came.

*I do not want a slave name,* I told him later, *because I am not a slave.*

He told me that he understood, and that it would not be a name for his slave, because that is not what I am.

*I do not want a name,* I told him finally, *because there is nothing that will fit me properly and permanently, ever.*

He told me that he understood, but at some point he would find one within my true nature.

“Understood, sir,” I said, but I did not believe him.


“I have looked inside you,” he said to me one day, “and it turns out that you were right.”

I did not understand.

“You do not have a name inside you.”

I blinked, and waited.

“I have looked for a long time, waiting for it to make itself clear to me. I have found that none of the names I have called you are your true name. ‘Little girl’, ‘pet’, ‘whore’, ‘sleepingirl’, ‘it’, ‘Clay’...”

A small smile started in my belly and rose to my lips.

“or ‘Angela’...”

As he spoke it, it rang true.

“You do not have a name because you were nothing until I created you. Everything I call you is both relevant and irrelevant. So I am stripping them all away. There is a hole inside of you where your name should be, and I intend to fill it with whatever I see fit.”

I kissed his beard and chest madly, grateful that he had seen right through me enough to find my identity, or lack thereof.

“You were right; no name is permanent enough for your nature because of how you fluctuate. So you will have none; *that* is your true nature.”

“*Yes*, sir.”

...Free at last.


I am nothing; I have no name. Some are used for ease of identification in public, but they mean nothing. When I hear them spoken, I hear how empty they are; meaningless without his intent behind them.

I was taken and given a mantra to remind me of this. I was recognized for what I am. I was unnamed.

No comments:

Post a Comment