My mother named me after the actress from a telenovela she was watching while pregnant with me.

I was supposed to be Li Mei, which means 'beautiful blossom', since I was so blushy when I was a baby. It has been a tradition to name girls in our family with Chinese heritage but Mom decided to name me after a Spanish persona instead. Just my luck.

Now Grandma seems to have an unfondly matter towards me, no matter the benevolence I do just because I was named different from the rest of the family.

And that got me thinking.

What if I hadn't met him?

What if I met someone else and fell in love with that someone else?

Would things happen in the same way or circumstances would be different?

I pondered on these deeply and came to the conclusion that just like the unfavorable bad luck that had struck me with family problems because I'm named this way, things would be different if I hadn't just met him.

Things would be different if I was not named—

♣♣♣

—Rosa

I noticed that you like to say my name.

You prefer to call me that rather than the universal nickname every other human being had grown accustomed to.

Rosa

You let the two syllables linger longer on your tongue than any other words I have heard you spoke.

Have you gone to the auditorium, Rosa?

Wow that's a new record, Rosa.

Tell me about it, Rosa.

Hey, Rosa. Nice, Rosa. That's good, Rosa.

—Rosa

You would always prompt a pause before saying my name like it is some kind of incantation for a blessing.

Maybe to you, it was.

But one statement of yours personally caught my attention.

Why Rosa? You asked one time.

What do you mean? I replied half heartedly.

Why are you named Rosa? Your brother's name is way different.

I stared at you, thinking why you care so much.

I don't know really. My mother was inspired from a show or whatever. I answered.

Huh really? It thought would be more symbolic or something.

Why is that?

But you just smiled and had gone back to whatever you were doing before asking me that stupid question.

I kind of felt left out, unsatisfied that you didn't finish our conversation, though I can scheme a conclusion of my own on why you care about knowing my name like that.

You liked to ask me questions on the most random personal things like why my surname is Cheungwun or why I like the color white so much or how come I don't look Chinese even though my surname is or why do I smell like vanilla all the damn time.

You had thought of me as a symbolism, a walking metaphor.

And thought that I interest you so much because I have a really minimalist name with a very minimalist taste of everything and you thought of that as a metaphor which was kind of dumb, considering how you consider things.

You thought that with minimalism comes aesthetic. And for you that was poetic.

People like to look on things that are beautiful and automatically tag them as poetic, even though sometimes things that are aesthetic don't mean a fucking thing.

Yes, I'm a minimalist and for you that was poetic. But the truth is, I'm a minimalist because I have OCD. Not because I'm some kind of a walking metaphor.

I'm guessing you realized that later on with the things that had been going with us lately.

I am aesthetic, but I'm not a metaphor.

♠♠♠

OCD

I have an OCD
Towards the things
That aren't perfect
Straightening my hair till it fall out
Prepping my nails to perfection
My OCD
My own perfection

But the funny thing is
You aren't perfect
Yet I had developed an OCD
Towards pleasing you
Even if it means
Abiding the rules
Of imperfection

I bend my own deception
Just to please
Your own perception
Of perfection
Even if it means
Breaking against
My OCD
My own perfection

You became
My OCD
My own perfection

•••

Photo src: Made thru www.canva.com