Your name can often solidify you in places that you were destined to or never meant to be. I can't tell you how my name makes me feel, or how for generations my name has been passed down in my culture and destined to be placed upon me. To me, my name is just a name.
K-i-a-n-n-a. Kianna. It doesn't necessarily roll off the tongue like butter, but it isn't sharp and quick like the slice of a knife either. It's more like a statement. Kianna.
I can tell you that my name means "ancient" in Irish, there are 1,694 Kianna's in the world and it is a form of Diana in Hawaiian. Urban dictionary says that Kianna is "a beautiful, quirky, powerful person. A unique name and a unique personality, her eyes are a color of beauty and she makes friends wherever she goes and knows how to make people laugh and smile".
I can also tell you that none of that is true. My parents probably couldn't point Ireland out on a map, let alone allude my name to a meaning of one of their words. I've never heard of another Kianna besides that dude from the Matrix and my closest relation to anything remotely Hawaiian is pineapple.
My beauty is subjective, I definitely cross the line between quirky and weird
and if you consider being able to convince others that I have my life together with a power, then I guess I'm powerful. My eyes are the color of the beautiful poop brown,
and I prefer to keep a small group of long-term friends rather than collecting them like stamps wherever I go.
To me, my name is just a name. It doesn't define my personality or actions. "Kianna" has no power in my life. I am not "Kianna". "Kianna" is me. I could be named Fiona, Karey or Anne, and I would still binge watch all of the Sherlock seasons regardless of the number of times that I've seen them. I would still get upset at myself for taking assignments way too seriously. I would still get close to the end of a really good book and stop reading it because I didn't want the magic to end. I would still have never eaten candy and hate everything sweet. I would still be me.