The Naming

You don't remember the moment you became yourself— the exact second your name stopped being something others said and became the thing you answer to.

It happened in a room surrounded by people who had already decided who you were. They kept saying it until the walls believed it, until you did too.

Now your name is a small cage you've decorated, made comfortable. You forget it was ever a choice— that someone named you, and you said yes, and kept saying yes.

Sometimes you hear it spoken and you still look up, reflexive, still answering to the name that once answered for someone else.