My name is Isabella.  

My name says a lot of things. It says Diversity. It says confusion. It says origin, and history. Imperfection and harshness. But my true name is simply, Bella. 

Bella contains the simplicity that I wish I had in my life. Bella sounds organized, prepared, and down to earth. She is grounded. a straight connection between her mind, emotions, and soul. She defines perfection. 

She is all that I aspire to be. But in the end—she is not me.

The half of me that is Italian gives Bella some life. In Italy, Bella stands for beautiful. In Italy, Bella represents the reflection of the warm, rainbow of colors displayed on the water each morning. The name stands for the originality of the beauty and elegance that lives throughout the landscape and architecture. It grows under the beaches and grass, and swims on the surface of the oceans waves. It speaks through the birds' songs that they sing each morning, and is consumed with the beautiful creations of food that is shared each day. 

The name Bella gives my grandparents a sense of home when they are here, away from the beauty that they adore so very much. Bella has love oozing out from each letter, brightness blinding any eye who glances. Bella is what holds together the rest of the world. Such a small, simple name, radiating positivity to all those around.

But the other half is confusion and uncertainty. This part speaks of the ugly reality. Bella means beautiful, but all things beautiful come with a price. Bella is a name that sits by itself. In the middle of that elegantly written ocean of Italy, underneath the beauty and grace, the name swims alone. Fighting everyday to stay above the surface. 

It is the cracked, aged cobblestone road that never gets driven on. the shadows of the brightly colored trees. Always surrounded by the sun, but unable to feel the light. For everything positive the name gives, the same amount of negativity is consumed. Bella is a name with meaning under the surface. Bella is not simply beautiful, but the beauty of the ugliness in the world. 

So no, the outer face of Bella does not belong to me. The fakeness, imperfections and constant positivity does not belong to me. 

What belongs to me is the complexity, beauty, and flaws in the name. What belongs to me is the history and art of italy. What belongs to me is the complex depth and imperfections that are all said in five letters. Bella.