My given name was a great source of comfort to me as a boy, a blank canvas given to me where others were saddled with limits and borders from the first moment they drew breath outside the womb. Kevins would always be Kevins; Daves never not Daves. Guy? Guy could be so many things. Every boy and every instructor in that boarding school was a Guy, but, through some wonderful magic, I was not them. It was though my name was He Who Has Sentience And Free Will Fieri.
Much later, I learned what I thought was freedom was actually a trap.