Logging on to email and wordpress, I tick the small icon “remember me”. How ridiculous it is to think that an automated website can remember me – can remember any of us. We are so much more than a user name, than an email address. The internet seems to make us believe we can be encompassed by one name, by one phrase. All of our habits, all our idiosyncrasies cast aside and put into one small combination of letters. How can it be that I am known by a mere name? Even by my first name. How is it that we can be defined by a name?
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
I am not my name and you are not yours. I am ME. Whatever and whoever ‘me’ turns out to be. I am different, I am special. We are all classed. Boxed.
We are all categorised. But we are not defined by our categories, by our boxes. I urge you, break out of your box. “Do not go gentle into that good night”.
We are who we are, not who we are told to be.
I, for one, refuse to be told who I am. I am everything and anything I choose. I am Chaucer, I am Byron, I am Frost, I am Shakespeare, I am me. With all my flaws. All my brokenness. Every hurt, every crack in my glass, every paint splatter on the canvas that has made up the me-ness of me.
I am alive. I will not go gentle into that night. I will make my mark and leave my scar. I am not my name. I am me.