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This One Time
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My Name by Kiara Oliver (Other) -
In English, my name means small and dark, or clear and bright, depending on whether you go Celtic or Latin. In Latin, it means I'm a lesser version of some girl named Clara. But in Celtic, it means my family wasn't at peace. It does hurt sometimes, but, whatever.
I was born to a family of multiple races, both sides from the South. But, my mum was half Black and half White. Her father had skin darker than a braised raisin, while her mother was a fair-skinned girl. This made for a lot of weirdness when my mother grew up. But, her mum was her rock.
My grandmother died when my mother was about 12 or so. But she left most of her money to Papa, my grandfather. He remarried plenty of times and had over 20 kids, from what he knew. Needless to say, my grandmother's family didn't like that. So, when my mother asked them to help her name me, their hidden disappointment fell upon my title forever to be called from their lips.
My name was one of a kind to me, because it was given with anger and not I seem to be one of the largest sources of happiness in our family. And, even though there are many girls I know with my name, none of them are exactly like me. I know it. I inherited the quirks from my family.
At school, they say my name like "key-ah-ra" or "Key-air-rah", whichever one they choose. A lot of people used to put my name with the little Kiara from Lion King 2. And I didn't mind. I loved her adventurous soul.
I named my sister after a good friend of mine in third grade. We always used to play around and joke around. Kirsten barely remembers me. But, at least I remember her. My sister keeps her memory, and the palatable commonness of her sweet name.
I would like to have a name that stood out as much as my personality. Something quirky and off-kilter. And I guess, in a way, it is. But I feel as if my name's individuality sinks with every time I meet someone called by the same name. But, oh, well. I'm the only Kiara who's just like me. And I'm okay with that.
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