‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet’. So said Shakespeare and if that man were alive, I might just strangle him him with my bare hands for lately, I’ve come to believe that a name might mean more than that playwrite ever imagined.
I’ve been called lots of names, nice ones and not so nice ones, and these names provide a link to the other person. It reflects to a certain extent the relationship two people share. It shows a certain casualness, a joking nature, a hint of affection, a shard of annoyance and so much more. The latest thing that I’ve been referred to as, maybe not intentionally, is an echo. For me to be an echo to anything in anyone’s past, present or future is distressing and I suggest they put up good sound absorbers. I’m carrying enough blame and guilt to last me a lifetime, so please, move on and stop dwelling on ‘what if’s.
I realise how abrupt and painful this may be to read but I really don’t know any other way to phrase it. I am sorry.
I’m not asking to be forgiven, or for a space in your life again. I’m asking you to be all right and move on for I have never ever wished otherwise. I’m hoping and praying for your happiness.
What’s in a name indeed. Ol’ Shakespeare had no clue.