What comfort do I find in being not known? Perhaps I lose the compulsion to be more than what I am, and be only me when I do not have a name to the face. This isn’t a factor when I deal with people who don’t know the RL me – with them I am the real me, and with no trouble with the name-person conflict. It is only with people I already know who have this preconceived notion of who I am, that I feel the need to live up to what they think I am.
Consider this tendency of mine. None – well, almost none – of my characters in a story revolving around only them ever have a name. It is only when there are so many characters that to tag to identify which one I speak of names. They are redundant.
Quite frequently the name and the person don’t match. Or even the place. Consider “Nimrodel” – what if it was applied to a boring person with no interests in life beyond her books? It wouldn’t go. Easier, to leave things unnamed, and get on with the story.
It also cuts down on conflicts. As X, I am Y’s something, which dictates that I react to Z a certain way. Not being X gives me the freedom to just be me, minus constraints, and do what I would have done, had I not been Y’s something. It is that individuality that I cherish, that freedom. Because, sometimes I think I do not have the guts to say that I am X and I am this way, and deal with it. It hurts too many others whose pain is my pain.
I would have been unable to say what I just did with my name known. There is an ego and a pride involved with me with my name that denies all weakness. I can do away with without the name. Probably this does not make sense to others, but to me it does.
Shrouded she lurks unknown
Comfortable in clear darkness
Perhaps it hides the flaws.
Besides, one day, I’ll be known all over the world, and then I don’t want to be mobbed for an autograph. *sticks out tongue* Unfair perhaps, is that I know other’s names, and who they are… but hey, life is unfair.