||Labels..

'Introvert!'

'She's not much of a people person.'

'He's weird.'

'Annoying.'

'Perfect!'

How dare you?

How dare you limit an entire person, his whole life, her complete individuality to a single word?

How do you describe a person you have barely, superficially known for only a chunk of his lifetime in a few, simple words?

Is this why we have eulogies? To make up for all the limiting things we say about people when they're alive. Is it a way to apologise for trying to put down a number on the distance between their being and the horizon? Are we trying to make up for the infinite possibility in them that we carelessly ignore?

'How would you describe your personality?'

'I'm lazy. I prefer pulling up my blanket to turning off the fan 'cause the switch isn't an arm's length away. I put down books when I don't love them anymore because they remind me of how my preferences change.'

'I'm quiet. I'm a book and coffee person when it's raining outside. But I'm loud with a glass of scotch and my favourite people around. I'm annoyed with strangers who pretend to know me.'

'I'm a coffee person. I'm also a chaha lover.'

'As a kid, I liked both Harry Potter and Twilight. At the same time. Hey, don't judge!'

'I think I'm funny. I also think I'm eloquent. But sometimes, when I'm with someone I like, I tend to speak in incoherent sentences. I'm clumsy and think I should've been given eight feet like an octopus to balance myself better.'

'I can't sleep with the lights off. I'm afraid of the dark. But I think the most honest conversations happen in the dark.'

'Nothing good happens after 2 am. So I make my most reckless decisions post 2 am, drunk.'

'I like talking to people who have similar opinions like mine. I also like talking to those who don't so I can understand where they're coming from. But sometimes, I don't feel like talking at all.'

'I hate to travel. Yes, that is possible too.'

'I like to write. If I can't explain something to you, remind me to write.'

'I like balconies. With cigarettes. With plants. With books. I like saving that fallen jasmine under my pillow so I can smell it in the morning. I keep a marker in my desk drawer so I can smell it and feel like I'm five again. I ate chalk as a kid. And ten years later.'

I'm so many things and yet none of them. The facets to my personality are innumerable, uncountable, insurmountable. So don't try to limit all that I am into a single word or a few. Sit. Talk. Let me write to you. Let me explain why I think the rains suck and why I wouldn't buy anything but a yellow umbrella and how I think Robin did not deserve the blue french horn. See through my eyes why Michael Scott was an exceptional boss even though he was intolerable. Understand why words mean so much. But also, let me explain why they're always too little too late.