My name is Ryan. My friends call me Ryan. My last name is not Ryan. My middle name is not the same as my last name. I apologize for the last sentence not mentioning my first name was Ryan. My boss at Little Caesars even called me Ryan. Everyone I know calls me Ryan. Often I sit there for hours and wonder. Sometimes I think I'm hungry; sometimes I think I'm tired; sometimes I think I'm drunk; sometimes I think I'm passing; sometimes I think I'm asleep, but no matter what I can't deny the fact my name is Ryan. What is this? Why does everyone insist on calling me Ryan? Ryan may be my name, but people don't have to call me it. They could call me Tina, Lawrence, Gertrude, Newanda, or even Horatio. But, they don't, they call me Ryan. Ever since I can remember my mother called me Ryan. Every morning before school my mother would wake me up by saying "Wake up Ryan!" Even when we lived in Michigan, the first day of school the teacher said "Ryan?" while taking attendance. I smiled and proudly said "Present." In one of my classes there was a kid who claimed his name was Ryan. I knew I was the real Ryan. He finally admitted his name was Brian and was jealous of me because he knew I was Ryan. One time during a tornado drill I was talking to a friend, who also also called me Ryan. My teacher walked over to me and hit me over the head with a newspaper and said "Stop that Ryan!" My first day in junior high I heard the bell that class began. I recognized as the same bell you hear when an airplane is about to take off. So, I said "Everyone please make sure your seatbelts are securely fastened and your seats are in the upright position." At that point a girl sitting next to me said "Ryan, you are wierd." Even people who weren't my friends would call me Ryan. At Wellington High School a kid, who I thought was my friend, called me Ryan. He then said some very crude comments about my mother. I punched him and then he beat me up. A friend of mine, who exclusively calls me Ryan, pulled him off of me. I layed there half dead and my friend said "Do you know who you are?" My reply was "I know that my name is Ryan...or at least it was...". My friend said it was. A couple of years later I was sitting in my Humanities class and my teacher yelled "Your name is Ryan!" in my face and I said "Good point." Once I thought I was in pain, but people told me I was wrong. They told me I was Ryan. I went to the hospital and had some tests taken. It turns out my appendix had burst. They fixed it so I could keep the name Ryan and not die. I signed out of the hospital as Ryan. When I finally graduated high school my diploma stated that my name was Ryan. I went on to Palm Beach Community College and my name was listed as Ryan. My friends kidnapped me and brought me to Orlando. They toldme that my name is Ryan. When I was seven it rained and my name was Ryan.

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