I am a dipper and a keeper. I kept an eye on their sleeves but failed to dig the sail of their teeth.
When I was a 6-year-old peach, I was called “Honey~”. How I wondered, so I asked, “I told you, my name is Dana, why?”
They laughed about it and patted me, “You are so pretty… honey is all they can remember of you.”
Now that my age multiplied, my names began to gather their own troupes only to be changed every time.
My names evolved faster than the state of people who caused this flow.
None of them once remembered the name Dana and none of them ever skipped the day eyeing what she was wearing.
Straight ace ahead, I earned plenty of names, questioned the listed names and even faced the identities I am uncertain of.
Soon, my life began to feel uncertain, and I don't know who I am anymore.
Who are you?
Posted on @deintywoodtales (dada on tumblr)
Deinty Woodtales © Amanda A.M, 2023