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My middle name on the other hand was named after my grandmother (Marjorie). My grandmother was as feisty as a lion. She never backed down and endured a lot throughout her life. I´m proud to say my middle name is named after her.

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a name that i've never made friends with. a name that stuck by my side like a toxic friend that you don't have enough problems with to leave but still is a burden

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spread my roots around the world.

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like that awkward feeling you get when you get a c on a test, you feel a sense of failure but also gratitude that you didn't completely fail. It's very inconvenient like a kid who wont stop nagging you to tell him about dinosaurs.

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as the fireflies sparkle like twinkling stars in depths of the dark sky

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My name is not bilingual. It only speaks English. In cursive it has one too many curves, in standard text it's bland. A gray that you pass everyday but think absolutely nothing of it.

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My name sticks out like a sore thumb in my family because it is unique and original.

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As if she was birthed from the pale white snow.

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he's what motivates me the most

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A name used against me, cutting into my skin until I did it myself. A name that was insulted and ripped apart by people I would call my friends. My name is something I would despise hearing because it just was too painful to hear from all the years of people who would shoot daggers into it. My name is now something I will stand by, taking back what others did to me in the past.

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with the name of a rock

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My name is like a needle. No matter how much I search, I can only find handfuls of hay. Its like a language, slowly being lost in translation. As time went on, it became easier to accept than to correct and my Rosetta Stone began to crumble.

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When I hear it, I instantly feel a cold breeze come across my skin like the feeling of frostbite on a cold winter day.

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Moving is a very bittersweet feeling

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grinning from ear to ear, his shaggy hair almost covering his eyes