Someone Else Has My Name

We leave behind more of ourselves than we ever intend to.

Metaphor and Muse ( Prakhar Sahu)

3 min read

·

Oct 4, 2026

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I typed my old username into Google
on a Sunday afternoon,
mostly out of curiosity.

I expected an abandoned account,
an old photograph,
perhaps a page that no longer loaded.

Instead, I found a stranger.

Same name.

Different face.

Different life.

Their profile was ordinary.
A few photographs.
A handful of words.
Nothing that suggested
they had accidentally stepped
into a room I once occupied.

I stared at the screen
longer than I should have.

It was only a username.

But once,
I had typed those letters
so often
they felt like an extension of my hand.

I wondered if they knew
the name had existed before them.

Probably not.