What's in a Name?

As time passes, I have noticed a distinct lack in my ability to miss my old way of life. I still think about it, but there is a lingering disassociation that fills my senses when I do.

Has it only been ten days? Was I really that unhappy before I accepted all of this? I am trying to tell the difference between the effects of the key, and abandoning my own emotional restrictions, but it can be somewhat difficult at times. It seems, much of this journey will not be finding myself, but throwing away what was already found.

My Owner likes to build. A lot. Sethra gets distracted for rather long periods of time tinkering with new designs and house building. This means I often have stretches of doing nothing more than watching patiently, keeping her company, and staying out from underfoot.  Often hours would pass before I noticed. My only reminder being Sethra's occasional apologies from behind her latest project.

I never actually questioned it, as it is one of the things that first showed me how doll-like I already happened to be.

In the end though, a doll needs to be more than a display piece. Thankfully, I can peek through the haze of hormones long enough to still see it. I needed something to do, or I would lose myself to them, glazed over and mannequin still until I was called upon.

I required purpose, and recently it was given.

Sethra needed a scripter, and it didn't take long before two and two were put together. My first real order as her doll was to learn scripting so she could call upon it when needed. I was elated to finally be useful in such a way.

Until recently, having an owner remained a somewhat abstract concept. It lived as something in the back of my mind and never really had much substance. It was something I had accepted, but never really had affirmed.  Lately though, people have been treating me differently, and it has been driving the point further and further home.

The final push occurred yesterday evening, when I was renamed. 

Renamed: "Sweetie".

It is simply amazing how much weight a name can carry, and I didn't realize how much effort I put into maintaining my old one until it was taken away. It did not occur to me how much meaning it had. To have it changed, at someone's elses whim, was somewhat of a mental bounce. It was like a reset switch attached to the very core of who I considered myself to be.

Will people begin to forget who Lita Morane was, as I have begun too? Why didn't I fight against it? What is it in me that doesn't want to?

What is in a name? I am not exactly sure. But you may come to know if yours is ever misplaced.