Abby's Back

You may have noticed [or maybe not...] that I've returned my blog name to Abby. Yes, this change is significant. Yes, it has meaning.

I decided--after much deliberation, I might add--that trying to take on Artemis's name wasn't working for me. I may resemble her characteristics at times, but I truly am Abby. It's not my real name, not even close, but it's me. I'm an Abby. It just fits.

We've been through this before. Abigail Christine Morgan is the name that fits me best.

But why did I give up on Arty, a name that seemingly fit me just as nicely? Because the "goddess" in me is no longer a part of my present life. I can still identify with her, and I will never be able to forget how it felt to belong to a group of strong, courageous women who knew their path and weren't afraid to take it. We knew what we had to do this summer, and we did it. We completed the task. We overcame all obstacles of time, space, and reality that threatened to break us down.

Like all things, that beautiful summer had to end. Our time in the sun couldn't last forever, of course. We finished our job and went back to the real world, with school and work and extracurriculars and such.

Do I regret who I was in July? The dreamer, the one with all the hopes and wishes, the one who wasn't afraid to defy reality? No, I don't. I can't regret it. It was me.

But that reality, that world of dreams, could never be enough. I am human. I belong in this world.

So Abby I shall become yet again. Arty has been laid to rest, my memories of her existence bottled in my writing and my thoughts. Some day, when I have finished it, there will be a novel that tells the tragically heroic tale of seven girls who had the nerve to venture beyond the boundaries of their own reality. A tale that deserves to be told.

You may not understand what I'm talking about, much less that drastic change my life is undergoing. You might even think I'm mildly crazy for caring so much about my stupid pseudonym. But I'm not crazy, and I'm not stupid.

My identity means so, so much to me. I know my birth name, and I know my surname, but they aren't my identity. I strongly believe that everyone has a "true name," an idea I'll admit that I stole from all those silly fairy novels I've read. The concept was too real for me to ignore.

I may be wrong, but I'm pretty darn sure my "true name" is Abby. Yes, I know the loony fairies say you're not supposed to tell anyone your true name... But last time I checked, I wasn't a fairy, so I think I'm okay.

Seriously. Not a fairy. And no more mythical short jokes, guys. Nobody likes being called an imp, or a nymph, or an elf, or a fairy...