6:52am. A girl standing at her locker, waiting. Waiting for the few close friends she has to come to school. She stands there waiting quietly, trying to find something to do so she doesn’t look as if all she’s doing is standing there. She stands there while the other students walk by as complete strangers to her. Maybe, just maybe, one or two of the students walk by and wave or say “Hi,” but usually only a meaningless, brief glance is given between the two. That girl is me.

Julia. A girl that people only really know by name. I would be lying if I said those people knew everything about me, yet really they know nothing. Except what to call me. My name does not tell everything about me.

“Julia” or “so and so’s sister” or “so and so’s girlfriend.” That’s how many people only know me. However, few actually know the real me. To those who think they know me, I may be quiet and shy; however, underneath all the quietness and shyness, there is much more to me than everyone sees.

Julia. I’m a girl who is clumsy at times, a girl who plays guitar, a girl who always tries to be the best she can. I have hardships at home similar to every other teenager in the world: having to wake up early, picking my outfit for the day, or having my phone die in the middle of writing a text. I’m like everyone else...just no one knows that. To those students walking in the halls, I’m just “the girl that’s standing at her locker” or just simply “Julia.”

A name says nothing about a person. Yes, a name may have some meaning, as in a dictionary. But can a dictionary define a person? Can it define me? No. Not unless I let it define me. I could let my name define who I am. I could let myself be defined by those students passing me in the hallway, and let them determine everything about me just by my name. But I won’t. I am who I make myself to be. Names mean nothing.

6:53am. I’m still just Julia. Standing at her locker waiting. Except I don’t care. I don’t care because that’s what I chose to make myself at that moment. Because in the next moment I won’t be at my locker, I will no longer be waiting. I am going to make myself whoever I want to be.

6:54am. I am now Julia, the girl who is walking away from her locker, taking her own fate with her and writing her own story. Not letting others write it for her and not letting them put it into a meaningless dictionary with the rest of meaningless stories. No. I write my own story. I alone. Because no one else is Julia. I am Julia.