Is it possible to put a label on it?
How would you name something you go through but can’t explain?
How can a memory help form a word?
Or a rhythm that suddenly changed?
They want you to explain who you are, what you want, and what you feel.
Yet, not all parts of ourselves can be found in a dictionary.
What is love?
It’s more than just phone calls and bouquets.
It shows up when you least expect it.
It’s deciding to stay even when there’s only silence around.
It’s the comfort found in shared looks and the ache of being apart.
You can try to define it, but one sentence will never capture it all.
What is pain?
Sometimes it can be loud, while at other times it’s quiet.
The absence of someone’s voice might cause it.
Or it could be an overload of thoughts.
It might involve letting go of someone who is still alive.
Or it might be about dreams that never became real.
What is success?
For one person, it could be a big house.
For someone else, it might mean feeling at peace.
For certain individuals, it’s just getting out of bed and making it through the day.
There’s no single definition of success that fits everyone.
It’s a whisper. A breath. The sun coming up.
Maybe there are aspects of life that can’t be labeled.
Maybe their purpose is to be lived, felt, shattered, and rebuilt.
Maybe it’s when we try too hard to define things that we miss the wonder of simply experiencing them.
So, if I needed to explain what “defining it” means,
I believe:
It’s mankind’s effort to hold onto what can’t be held.
To name the wind.
To catch a shadow and call it reality.
