Teagan: Beautiful, little poet, philosopher. Three random words that I have been told, I'm supposed to represent.

I always wanted the name to fit me better than it does, forcing and contorting my personality to fit who I think Teagan should be. Beautiful, eloquent, and deep. I have not been successful. I've never felt beautiful and my words are far from complex poetry. The last one— philosopher. the one fear I force the most. 

Beauty. The undetermined yet prevalent standard that, like it or not, defines everyone's life. This of course includes mine. I've never felt particularly beautiful. For me, beautiful is a word reserved for the best, for the perfect, for someone other than me.

Poet. I never have or ever will be good at poetry. I have ideas in my head but when written down the words become muddled and cheesy. Complex ideas get reduced to Pinterest quotes. Nuanced perspectives get out shown by insufficient rhymes. I wanted to be good at it, to be able to speak in stanzas. To have poetic rhetoric flow from my mind as easily as other forms of writing had. Poetry was the one form I couldn't do. And also the one I'm supposed to represent. My inability is once again failing my name. 

Philosopher. The one descriptor I have based my personality on the most. The one that hurts the most to admit I fall short of. I have spent my life defined by my nuanced approach to existence and its deepest questions. I've built this expectation for myself and others to be smart and profound. 

Teagan is supposed to represent that. She is supposed to be well-spoken, intelligent; the prettiest in the room, and confident in being that. She's able to capture anyone's attention with her elaborate views on life and enthralling turns of phrase. My name reflects that sounding hard and soft at the same time. It's firm in how it believes and yet delicate in how it shows it. She is profound; the antithesis of pretentious. 

Pretentious. A word that hangs in your mouth, leaving a putrid aftertaste that lingers long after spoken. It radiates off a person suffocating every unique developing idea in a room; instead replacing it with regurgitations of others' tired ideas. Teagan strides along this line between profound and pretentious with confidence, never once losing footing. I, however, inch, paralyzed that I'll misstep and fall, suffocating in my own arrogance. 

I like to believe that I'm deep. But am I lying to myself; pushing this self-important narrative hoping that I can live up to at least one of the expectations outlined within my name? Have I lost my footing and begun to fall? 

Beautiful, poet, philosopher, the best version of myself laid out in front of me. And yet all of them out of reach. 

Despite this, I like my name. It sounds full and heavy. Like it makes a mark on everything it comes in contact with. It changes and influences its surroundings. My name and its meaning are beautiful, and eloquent, and deep. 

My name gives me a person to strive for. A version of who I am beyond myself, beyond my doubts and worries. Beyond my fears of failure or rejection. 

Teagan is strong and confident. She doesn't dilute herself for others, and yet abstains from pretentiousness. Teagan is everything I want to emulate even if I doubt I can. 

While her complexities might not fit me now, one day I hope to truly represent her.