To define means to give the exact meaning or to be in perfect clarity,
to describe exactly what something is or capture it on camera.
But how limiting is it to say “I'm small” or to lock myself in a lens forever.
Why would I want to define myself when I am always changing?
It's in our nature to categorize and organize, to make everything fit the way we want it to.
And when things don't fit, they get cast away as, “wrong, mistake, undefined.”
But I am none of those things- there's nothing abnormal about me yet I'm still undefined.
I'm as vast as the universe and as insignificant as the dirt on the ground.
I contemplate my life in bed, but go blank during Calculus in class.
I dance on my bed and sing into my hairbrush.
I dream of lights and flashes, of fame and the stage as I balance equations.
I have a world of my own and refuse to leave it.
I am unique and adaptable and strong and quiet and intelligent and creative and here.
But maybe I'm not?
I have felt hate and love and loss and joy and they have shaped me and me alone.
I am not who I was and I will not be who I am today.
Or maybe I will?
There is no way to define me because I am not predictable, or organized-
no words can pin me.
There is only on thing I know for sure of myself. I'm here.
But even that is as tangible as the water in my hands.
To put it simply-
I Am, and no one else is.