la.dee.da

I once knew a man without a name. He was a horrid fellow, depressing. Without fail, every so often, he would drop by with the sole and explicit purpose of decreasing my self morale. Always let himself in too. Some days I would wake up and he would be staring at me. Talk about creepy. Other days I would be washing my face and I would look up and see him standing in the doorway. Eventually my adrenal glands got used to the annoyance and I no longer jumped at his presence. But without fail, the man would taunt me daily.
"No one knows your name," he would say, "nobody knows you at all."
I dismissed him regularly, telling him it was he that no one knew and he without a name. My defenses didn't phase him. He continued with his taunts which increasingly lost value and quickly diminished my patience.
Finally, I had had enough and made the decision to hit the man. It wasn't my primary decision in problem solving but I felt I had exhausted all other possibilities. With contact, my demon shattered and I drew back my lacerated hand. A bit stunned, I grabbed a broom and dustpan and gathered the shards.