Names
I've never truly felt connected with my name. Or rather, the name my parents gave me.
I used to boast to primary school classmates that it meant "lost princess", but when I finally searched it up years later I found that it meant just lost. Abandoned.
Truly a fitting name for a neglected child. Never having his needs met, or his feelings considered when it comes to his own identity. Never being called by the name he wants so dearly to be called by.
When I was younger I couldn't pronounce many words correctly. I doubt I pronounce many words correctly even now. No one ever heard me say my name correctly until I had repeated it multiple times. Once I even introduced myself to another kid at school with my middle name
"I'm ******, but if you can't pronounce that then you can call me Nichole."
I never talked with that girl again.
Few people spell it correctly without me previously telling them how to spell it or having it written down somewhere else. Sometimes I write it down for them. My year 9 physics teacher still managed to spell it wrong after seeing my name written down multiple times a week, multiple weeks in a row.
Teachers can't say my name correctly even with it written down in front of them. Whenever there's a new substitute I wait with baited breath to see if they say it correctly. Some do. Some don't. There tend to be few of the latter.
I went back to school today. I found out I have a new form tutor, she's going to teach me biology as well. She said my name twice, neither time did she pronounce it correctly. I suppose it's karma for me taking my time table out at break and not being able to say her name despite hearing it an hour or two ago. Though when I tried again for a second time this evening I could say it clearly, without the syllables getting jumbled on my tongue.
If I search my first name online, I get a gun company, and drinks. Not a page on babynames, or nameberry, or whatever baby names site you can think of.
Most of my friends are online. But that's alright. They welcome the names I slowly switch through over the months. Tea, Pip, Barney, Spy. No matter why I choose these names or how ridiculous the name is, I'm respected. I'm called by my name. Not a false persona I put on when I have to go to school, or interact with my family, and pretend everything is okay. That I am this made up girl who meets her parents expectations.