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uncommon

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My eyes, the sky, and the ocean share that same color. However, occasionally, my eyes adjust to the color of my shirt. And my skin and the freckles, upon my nose, depend on the sun. My age? By the year. Love interest? By the day. Teachers? By semester.
My hair depends on the season, my nail polish switches to whatever polish I happen to touch first and what I happen to put on in the morning…--well, that’s all on the unpredictable Wisconsin weather.
But things that will never change with the sun or the year: I’ll always be the “baby girl” of two high strung parents who ground me for: putting my t-shirt in the dryer, leaving an ice cube on the floor, or even signing my name on the wrong area of a single piece of paper. I have my phone taken away from me, more regularly than I have possession of it. I should probably stop telling you these incidents or I could get myself grounded.
I will always be the tattle tale to my three siblings. I will always have one over protective brother. Idolize and mimic my two older sisters. And I will always sing in the shower, dance in public, and have my first my name.
My name. I despise it. I always have. “One could say short but not sweet”. People see me doodling it on any empty space I can find--It’s yelled by my father and said by the eyes of my mother. It’s screamed sitting across my lunch table. By my friends. Repeated when I borrow their clothes. By my older sisters.
Unlike: the songs that are stuck in my head, my optimistic, giggly self, wearing my heart on my sleeve, starting my day with one act of kindness, never being afraid of smiling and saying hello, living my life like an open book, my name won’t change. As it is said, spoken yelled and repeated more often, and with the combination of getting older, it happened to “grow on me”, I guess it’s not really the name that holds the originality but the one who is given the name that has the ability to make it uncommon. And sure even the girl next to me as I read this paper allowed, whispers that she has the same name as me too. My name may be like many others including the girl next to me or the six girls in my Psychology class, but there’s only one me, I’m sure one of a kind and there’s sure no changing there.





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