My English name “Phoenix” means a bird that never dies, so it’s certainly not an easy thing. It must be a long story.
When I was six months in my mother’s womb, my family had a meeting of my name on the second floor of my house. When my family was thinking what my name would be, a beautiful tiny bird flew into our house. My father opened all the windows, but the bird did not want to leave. This reminded my mother of the legend in which birds paying homage to the phoenix. When my mom tried to ask the bird, “Whom do you want to look for?” It chirped at her.” Oh, I know it. My son is a phoenix, so his name will be Phoenix.” Then the bird flew round the room twice and flew away. That is the story my mom told me and I find it a little bit impossible.
I wouldn’t change my name because this is the result of my parents and the bird. This is the best and only name that suits me.