The only one. There are no others strapped into the seat next to me on this ride. I am a loner driving on this road that goes one way. I guess this makes me unique. I don't feel unique. I feel like any other kid with four wheels surrounding them. Any other kid who has a tiger residing inside them roaring at every move they make, chasing themselves down to the very edge of that cliff. Fiona. That's the one. It replaces the fourteen year old with an innocent, little first grader trying to reach the cookie jar. Fiona. First, they think of the walker. Then, they talk down to me. However, they do not think at all. They only look at me, and listen to an instinct society has built. I don't want your condescending words encouraging a storm to occur in my mind. It's already flooded. I have played this game my whole life without any timeouts. I'm tired, though. I will never reach the true title of myself. My name has continued this game, and now I know why.
No one believes that I, Fiona could ever have so much to say. But I do. And no one understands. So what if I did speak? Perhaps the meaning of Fiona could completely change. If I would just plant the seed I possess. I could grow a whole new tree named "Fiona". They would watch me try to enrich the tiny root. Sometimes there is not enough sunlight to shine. What if it does not receive the sun it needs? It would require a lot. I don't have much. I can give it time though. I have waited over a decade, I don't mind a few more years. I would wait a century in order to change the meaning of Fiona. I just can't. I might seem strong and fearless, which is true outside. I just can't. Not yet.
Sure, my name is what separates myself from others. Maybe that's okay. If people did not talk down to me each time Fiona seeped into their ear, then I may not be who I am. I suppose I am this determined figure because of my name. The tears I've shed, the anxiety I've faced, the nights I've watched. The smile I've worn, the joy I've known, the gratitude I've felt. Without my name, I would not feel the need to prove myself. I would not attempt jumping that cliff. I would not apply for the honor society. I would not know what I am capable of. I am the person I am because of the tiger. The tiger who roars, "This is not who you are! This quiet, scared child! No, be bold." I am not frightened by it. Not anymore. Thanks, Fiona the tiger. I now understand.