Saturday, 19 April 2014

An introduction

When I was eleven, during a pretty enthusiastic solo dancing session in my bedroom, I broke my floor length mirror. Six years later, I have come to fully understand the phrase 'breaking a mirror brings seven years of bad luck.' Although I suppose my real run of bad luck began 17 years ago when my wonderful parents decided to call me James. Apparently having a daughter less than a year after life gifted them with the god that is my brother Caleb rendered them dumbstruck. And so, they christened their first - and only - daughter James. 

You cannot begin to comprehend the struggles that come with my situation. The sheer confusion that comes across every teachers face at the beginning of the year when I answer to my name during registration. The constant confirmations that yes my name really is James and no I really am not joking because yes my parents really and truly obviously hated me that much. It's like a really cruel and long running joke, except it's not funny and it's my every day reality. 

It shouldn't bother me so much. It really is only a name. And yet I can't help but feel that it's responsible for every shitty thing that's ever happened to me. Believe in fate? I can't help but believe in it. Caleb and Brendan have normal names for normal boys who get to live extraordinary lives. But for a girl called James? Nothing ever goes to plan.