No Final Form

 Lately, I’ve been sitting with this thought: what if I never had to arrive?

The world loves to define us student, worker, artist, friend. Sometimes those labels feel comforting, but other times they feel like cages. What if I chose instead to keep moving, to keep unfolding, to never let myself be completely captured by a single description?

The quote I came across today said: “It’s my goal to have no final form. To never be defined. To never stop exploring, learning. To experience life as long as I’m alive.”

Something about that feels like a deep exhale. A reminder that life isn’t about perfecting one version of myself, but about staying curious. About letting go of the pressure to be finished.

I think of all the ways I’ve already shifted—how old passions fell away, how new ones quietly bloomed, how people I once thought I couldn’t live without are now only memories. And yet, each change has been proof that I am still alive, still moving.

To have no final form feels less like being lost, and more like being free. Free to change, free to grow, free to keep surprising myself.

Maybe that’s the real goal: not to become something, but to remain in love with the becoming.