For a long time, the name Livia was meaningless to me. To everyone else, it was a shortened version of Olivia. Except I was never Olivia. Olivia was the name my brother picked. It means olive tree. Olivia, as in the olive branches that innocent doves carry victoriously in their beaks as an unwavering symbol of peace. Settling treaties following unrelenting torment and bringing peace back to the people. 

I was never meant to bring peace though. My parents wanted to be unique. A name that followed centuries of prophecy wouldn’t do. But Livia is completely different. Livia is uneven letters and uneven syllables. It’s not a uniform circle. It’s a neon yellow five-pointed star, rough and undefined. Most of all, it’s rare. So my parents decided that just Livia is fitting.

They weren’t wrong though.

 I am far from a pure white dove, soaring effortlessly above the never ending storm on mankind, searching for an olive branch. I certainly am not a sturdy olive branch, growing slowly yet steadily under the immense pressure of my family tree. I was never meant to be Olivia.

Livia perfectly suits me. 

Livia, like Livia Drusilla, the powerful wife of Roman emperor Augustus. Like her, I stop at nothing to get what I want most. Livia, not an innocent, small dove, but a creature that does not care for peace if it  erases the injustice that others face at the dirty hands of the elite. Livia, not an olive branch, yet maybe one day I’ll be a hundred-year-old oak tree that endures storm after storm. One whose gnarly roots dig 30 feet underground, grasped firmly around the loyalty of my loved ones, planted stubbornly so long as I support their cause.

Sometimes, Livia is cutting edge perfection with a satisfying symmetrical middle. It is a pair of Monarch butterfly wings, each side intricately sprinkled with orange stripes and white dots that are flawlessly symmetrical. Other times, it’s hating everything associated with that name because it’s not all symmetrical. One wing is too big and the other clipped, making its flight and therefore world lopsided. None of it is perfect. Still rough, but at least it’s defined.

Nonetheless, I’ve come to appreciate the name Livia. It’s a shortened version of Olivia. Yet somehow, there’s more.