When I was in fourth grade
I changed my name.
To Scarlet.
Not legally.
Nobody even called me that.
But it meant that
on my tenth birthday,
at Olive Garden,
everyone sang Happy Birthday
to Scarlet.
I loved Scarlet.
She had red hair.
She wore
low top red converse
with sweatpants
that tied at the bottom with a hair tie.
Scarlet ate
peanut butter and Nutella sandwiches
for lunch.
Scarlet loved to bake.
She loved a lot of things.
Scarlet made a YouTube channel.
She made a lot of things.
Scarlet was 10.
She stays 10.
When I was a freshman
in high school,
I changed my middle name.
To Elsie.
Not legally.
Nobody really liked it.
But it meant that
I was my great grandma.
Elsie.
I never met her.
I love Elsie.
I have her lips.
I don’t know much about Elsie.
I just know that I was never her.
I changed my name.
To Rach.
Not legally.
But people call me Rach.
I’m Rach the person,
Rach the friend,
Rach the sister.
Rach the anything I want to be.
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