Call Me Lawrence (Again)

It’s no longer Edward.
Edward is my father’s name.
He made a life out of it.
I didn’t.

My name has always been Lawrence.
Edward was just a phase.
It’s still my middle name,
my second name,
but everyone knows me as Lawrence.

To some of my family, I am Tatang
which means “old man” in Tagalog.
(I’m SLOWLY growing into it.)
To those assholes in high school,
if they still remember,
it was Bulldog, Potato Head, Scat,
or whatever else they came up with.
To my lady,
I am Lover,
or Daddy,
which I always thought was
a self-fulfilling prophecy.
When she’s angry,
she calls me Lawrence.

So, no more Edward.
It was only a phase.
My writer-looking-for-a-new-name phase.
My put-a-past-life-behind phase.
My my-enemies-know-me-as-Lawrence-so-I’ll-change-my-name-so-they-won’t-find-me phase.

But I’m so Lawrence
that I forgot to tell people in my new job
to call me Edward.

I guess I wasn’t dedicated to being Edward after all.

Also,
when I started to want to be called Edward,
I met a guy named Edward.
He’s cool.
He built a life out of that name.
I didn’t.
So, in our circle,
he’s the only one who deserves to be called Edward.

So, I’m Lawrence.
Call me Lawrence.

If you didn’t get the memo before
that I wanted to be called Edward,

Then disregard this.

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