There should be a word for this 😭

There should be a word for the feeling of opening your phone for absolutely no reason, staring at the screen for a few seconds, and then putting it down—only to pick it up again thirty seconds later.There should be a word for remembering 

something embarrassing from seven years ago while brushing your teeth and suddenly needing to reconsider every decision you’ve ever made.

There should be a word for the strange little happiness of finding money in a pocket you haven’t worn in months.

There should be a word for hearing a song you haven’t listened to in years and, within the first three seconds, becoming exactly the person you were when you first heard it.

There should be a word for looking out of a moving car window and imagining an entire life in every house you pass.

A family you will never meet.A bedroom you will never sleep in.A kitchen where someone is probably making dinner right now.

A person sitting by one of those windows, perhaps wondering about a life completely different from yours.

There should be a word for realizing that every lit window you see at night contains a story you will never know.Maybe that’s why cities look so beautiful after dark.

Millions of tiny lives happening simultaneously.Someone is celebrating.Someone is studying.Someone is arguing.

Someone is falling in love.Someone is eating dinner alone.Someone is laughing so loudly that the neighbours can hear.

Someone is having the best day they’ve had in months.Someone is having the worst.And you are somewhere in the middle of all of it, completely unaware.

There should be a word for the moment when you suddenly realize that the stranger sitting across from you on the bus has probably lived an entire life you know nothing about.

They have childhood memories.People they miss.Places they want to return to.Songs that remind them of someone.Things they regret.

Things they’re proud of.Perhaps they also have a person whose name still makes their heart behave differently.Perhaps they are worried about money.

Perhaps they’re thinking about what to cook for dinner.Perhaps they’re simply tired.And then your stop arrives.They get off.

You never learn their name.Their entire existence briefly overlaps with yours, and then disappears.There should definitely be a word for that.

There should be a word for the particular sadness of realizing you will never again experience a completely ordinary day exactly as it was.You don’t notice it while it’s happening.

You wake up.You complain about getting out of bed.Someone calls you for breakfast.You check the time.You rush somewhere.

You laugh about something stupid.You come home.You scroll.You get annoyed.You eat.You sleep.Nothing special.

And yet, years later, you might remember that exact ordinary Tuesday with an ache you can’t explain.The people who were there.The clothes you wore.

The weather outside.The sound of someone’s voice.The particular version of yourself who existed that day.You didn’t know it was the last time.

There should be a word for that too.There should be a word for the moment you realize that childhood didn’t end on one particular day.

It disappeared gradually.One afternoon you stopped playing outside.One year your parents stopped reminding you to sleep early.

One day your room became less of a playground and more of a place where you kept books, clothes, chargers, and unfinished plans.You grew taller.

Your responsibilities grew.Your conversations changed.Nobody announced it.There was no ceremony.You simply became someone older.

And sometimes you wish you could go back—not because your current life is terrible, but because you suddenly understand the value of something you didn’t know was temporary.

There should be a word for missing a time you didn’t even appreciate while you were living it.There should be a word for seeing an old photograph and feeling affection for the person 

you were, even though you remember how badly you wanted to become someone else.Because isn’t that strange?When we are young, we are always trying to escape ourselves.We want to be older.More confident.More independent.More beautiful.More interesting.More successful.And then one day we look at an old photograph and realize that the person staring back at us was already enough.They just didn’t know it.

There should be a word for that realization.There should be a word for wanting two completely opposite things at once.Wanting to leave and wanting to stay.

Wanting independence and wanting someone to take care of you.Wanting attention and wanting to disappear.Wanting change and being terrified of it.

Wanting to know the future while secretly wishing you could pause the present.Maybe growing up is simply becoming comfortable with contradictions.

We are not one thing.We can love someone and still be angry with them.We can be grateful and still want more.We can be happy and still have bad days.

We can know we made the right decision and still miss what we left behind.We can be proud of ourselves and still have absolutely no idea what we’re doing.

There should be a word for that particular kind of uncertainty—the kind where you don’t know whether you’re lost or simply taking a route nobody around you has taken before.

I wish there were a word for the courage it takes to continue without knowing exactly where you’re going.Not confidence.

Not certainty.Something quieter.The willingness to take another step despite having no guarantee that it will work.

Maybe that’s what most of life requires.Not knowing.Not having a five-year plan.Not understanding why something happened.

Not knowing whether a person will stay.Not knowing whether a dream will come true.Not knowing whether the version of yourself you’re becoming will make the version of yourself today proud.

And still waking up tomorrow.Still trying.Still laughing at stupid things.Still making plans.Still buying things you probably don’t need.

Still sending someone a random “look at this 😭” message.Still standing in front of the refrigerator hoping new food has somehow appeared.

Still looking out of windows.Still getting attached to songs.Still imagining impossible futures.Still becoming.

Perhaps we don’t actually need names for everything.Maybe some feelings are beautiful precisely because they are difficult to explain.

Maybe language was never meant to contain every strange little corner of being alive.Some things are meant to remain unnamed.The sudden smile.

The quiet ache.The familiar smell.The passing stranger.The ordinary Tuesday.The childhood photograph.

The unopened message.The window glowing across the street.The feeling that your life is changing even though nothing obvious has happened.

Maybe there doesn’t have to be a word.Maybe sometimes we can simply say:I felt something.And let that be enough.