I know

Sometimes I wonder why the fuck did my parents give me this name. I mean, of course I know the reason. My dad is a philosophy nerd and he read a book where the main character had this name. He loved it. The story, the character, the nerdy shit and all of that. Then my mom read it and BAM there you go, their tiny fetus has a name now. Huge fucking step. But that was a little selfish of them to be honest. Did they ever think of the burden I'd be carrying for the rest of my life? How I would be haunted by my own name for years and years to come. Hell no. They didn't give a shit. I don't blame them though. I blame myself. The burden I'm carrying is not because my name has a deep philosophycal meaning that was invented ages ago by some greek who thought was okay to give someone a name this deep and philosophycal. I'm carrying this burden because I look too much into it and I actually give a fuck. If I didn't give a fuck and if I didn't have to find a deeper meaning to everything in life I wouldn't be complaining about this. Sophia means wisdom. And I carry this bagage like a pirate carries a parrot. I hate to be wise, I hate to know better, I hate to think and rethink and know constantly. I always know. But I always fuck up. Because I'm tired of knowing. It's exhausting. I wish I could shut it all down sometimes, and I pretend I can do it but in reality I can't. I really fucking can't. And maybe this isn't about my name. Maybe all of this is a lie. But I can wisely say, that this will forever stay, stained, smudged, splashed all over me, like the farewells that life brought me and left freezing at my doorway.