Somebody else gave me this name you use.

Somebody else shaped a sound that would dominate your perception of me, that would become your mnemonic, your handle, to attach together every moment of laughter or tears, every touch, every glance, every drop of friendly friction or lustful frisson.
They took wild nights under the stars, restlessness, wanderlust and domestic felicity.
They took the sounds of garage bands and far oceans, the scent of wet heath and of burning kerosene, the feel of peeling tree bark and squished bugs and mouldy things at the bottom of the fridge.
They took miscommunications and fights, hurt feelings, brief hopefulness and deep yearnings, and all the strength of loyal friendship.
They took all this, and hashed it all into one little word that was easy for you to remember.
You use it, and people nod like they know what it means.

I took the name, and changed it.