This is where it gets difficultMature

What's in a name - that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

string of letters defining everything one is?

My name is Sorcha Roisin Hannigan
and I'm not entirely sure who she is, yet.

Introducing myself to people is always easy-
'oh that's a funny name!'
'wait - can you repeat that?'
Sorcha, see: Sor-S-ha, 
s o r c h a

and then the inevitable question comes,
and it puts a feeling of terrible dread in my stomach,
and my words cling together and become stuttery and wrong,
and it becomes too much when -

'so, tell me a little bit about yourself'

I have nothing to say.

I can ride a horse.
I play piano.
I draw beautiful inspiring pieces of art.
I can solve a rubix cube in 0.4 seconds.
My hands do this really weird thing where-

I have nothing to say.
I can do nothing extraordinary,
My voice is not angelic, I cannot dance like Darcy Bussel,
I cannot say the alphabet backwards,
nor can I solve the Da Vinci Code.

I read Dante and Milton and pretend to understand the language,
translating Chaucer has been fun - 
but I am no lingusit.

I am not profound, 
I am not inspiring nor inspired.

at any other age I suppose one would dub what I am experiencing a midlife crisis
a loss of identity - 

but the issue really
is that that lost identity was never there.

Sorcha Roisin Hannigan has no identity


The End

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