I was supposed to be a Paige, or a Jessica. Instead, I’m an author of nursing books. I’m repetition. I’m talkative, like the nymph Echo from the Greek tale of Narcissus. My name stands for reflective beauty in Native American, but that doesn’t fit me. My name is always the standing reminder in a first impression. That girl with a funny name. Names don’t mean much to me. Doesn’t it bother you that someone else in the world shares your name? Names aren’t unique, they don’t describe a single person. Changing my name wouldn’t affect anything. I am not my name. I am not talkative. I am not repetition. My name doesn’t define me.