I have a weird name.
It’s hard to pronounce and I haven’t met a person who can spell it on the first try. As a kid just learning the alphabet and attempting to spell three letter words, it was haaaard. It’s an Indian name. All the other kids had easy names like Nick and Amy, mine felt more like Barbarian Jaggles. The good part is, having a difficult name taught me to respond to pretty much anything people call me that starts with a B.
My whole life, I’ve gotten all sorts of odd looks from people after I introduce myself.
I grew up in the US assuming that my name would be more common in India. I live in India now and not much has changed.
So I think it’s safe to say it’s weird everywhere.
But that’s okay. Over the years, it’s grown on me. It’s MY name and it’s the only one I’ve got. It has character, I like to tell myself. I know that every time I walk into a room, I’m the only one with this name. Isn’t that pretty great?
That’s always been something I could count on. It’s special to me.
Yesterday, my whole world came crashing down. Everything I once believed in, turned out to be a lie. What’s real? What isn’t? I can’t tell the difference anymore! It was like finding out there isn’t a Santa, Easter bunny, or a tooth fairy all at the same time.
I found someone with my name. MY name.
Yes, I realize that it was bound to happen eventually. My name is not that unique. All I know is that there is no way to explain how I feel without sounding completely insane.