“My God is an oath.” The meaning of my name. A solemn promise to their God. One quick meaning for one simple name. A simple name. Not much depth or character. But a sophisticated name. For someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who is able to get things done. Someone who gets a task and goes with it. A rule follower.

My name is a room. A victorian style room. dark lighting, only candles and fireplaces to light the room. Dark red, like a deep wine colour, fills the room. Two chairs, floral print, but older. Spaced out by a worn-down desk with more candles on it, lighting up the room. Clean. Elegant. Put-together.

My Mom didn’t know what to name me. Neither did my Dad. But my grandma did. The disagreement between them picking a name started to get on her nerves. Sick of the arguing, she informed the doctor of their new child’s name. Elizabeth. The thought of it calmed my Mom. A mature name. A mature child.

‘No nicknames!’ Stated my Mom. Every other name was too immature for her. I am stuck as just Elizabeth. New classes, I always get asked, ‘Just Elizabeth?’, and the answer is always yes. No other names - Just Elizabeth.

A name for someone who knows what they’re doing; A name for someone who is able to get things done; A name for someone who gets a task and goes with it. A name for a clean, elegant, and put-together person. A name that does not suit me.

Raised by my older brother and his friends, elegance and maturity left my body. My Mom was trying to care for my family, my Dad was always at work. I was left with the 10-year-old boy and his friends. His young and wild spirit taught me what being a person is, much different from my Mom’s expectations for me.

I would like to be discovered as someone different. Me, but under a new name. Something more concise, that rolls of your tongue. Fewer syllables, fewer letters. Something easier. Something more like me.