A Strange Thing Acknowledged and Named

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My real name is weird. It isn’t what it should be at all.

I don’t mean that in a dysphoric way. Not this time, at least. Let me try to explain;

You know how parents plan two first names if their kid ends up as either a girl or boy? Mine didn’t really end up as planned.

I was given a boy’s name, but with a feminine affix attached, instead of the girl name they originally had planned.

My middle name is a typo derived from my mother’s maiden name..

My last name is... Well, I don’t claim it. Don’t associate me with that bastard.

As a result, I get the moniker I have now. It feels makeshift, temporary, and too much. Engineered purely from rusty scrap and bolts and god-knows-what-else.

I don’t know the thought process that was behind it. All I know is that it was most likely unplanned (despite having a plan initially) and improvised on the spot.

It gets me thinking.
And thinking, and thinking, and thinking…

…Though, whatever the reason is, I know exactly what I’m doing once I get the chance to change my name.

1. Switch it back to the original boy’s name they had planned.
   (As things should be.)
2. Get rid of that heavy last name.
   (Obviously.)
3. Use the typo I was blessed with as my new surname forevermore.
   (I've always found myself more related to silly slip-ups, anyway.)