Olivia. Sure, the name is common and not hard to find on any souvenir, but it feels strange to me.

 A name for someone sophisticated, eloquent, and proper.  Me, possessing hardly any of those qualities, find it hard to assimilate with my given name.I think I see it that way because of the formality of being called by “Olivia.” People I’m unfamiliar with or am new to call me that, so it feels like a first-impression. 

As a kid, one of my core memories was finding out, and buying every copy of the book “Olivia.’’ It’s about a carefree, fun little pig named Olivia. She was messy, funny, and always stood her ground. She had layers, and a complex personality with different thoughts and ranges of emotions. A picture book may seem silly to idolize, but to me it was my first glance at a personable take on my name. 

Olivia is reminiscent of every color on the visible plane. Or a weightless feeling almost too weightless. It feels like ascending in a hot air balloon, almost losing your breath. My name sounds like a raging river, rushing on the rocks. Crashing along the shores with vengeance.

I wish I had a name where the feeling of disassociation was void.  But if you asked me what name would fit me, I couldn’t answer.

Growing up, some kids were teased, bullied, and called names just because of letters assigned to them at birth. I had it good if I’m being honest. So it’s hard to hate my name. But, my mom did have some pretty bad nicknames that kind of just stuck. Lou, Louie, Oliver and Ollie. But it almost makes it all worth it when they’re used by people you love.

My grandpa used to call me Bolivia. No one knows if it was purposeful, or he just forgot my name. He was pretty old. When he passed, it was hard to look at that name the same way. It was bittersweet. Wrapped in love. So it turned into a fond memory.

Olivia means all and nothing to me at the same time. It feels like a memory that you know you experienced, but can’t quite grasp the specifics. It feels like being called to while sleeping. Hearing the words come through in an echo. Disconnected. When someone calls my name, I answer to it, but it feels like I was meant to answer to something else.