I’m really terrible at writing titles. Every week I sit here in front of my laptop, post complete, staring at the “Enter title here”. My mind blank, computertulips keys unclicked, attempting to will the perfect title to magically appear before me. It has to be short and witty, perfectly capturing the tone of the article and the spirit of yours truly.

Titles are troublesome no matter where you try to apply them. We’re constantly trying to define ourselves and our world with titles are labels, fitting everyone and everything into perfect boxes and filing it away for later use. Except there is no filing cabinet for life. And when it comes to relationships and friendships, and even blog posts, there isn’t always precedent that applies. And sometimes those titles stick us in something we may not have intended. A title means we have to be a certain way, look a certain way, act a certain way. We spend so much time trying to fit our title, or define our selves so perfectly that we forget to live.

So maybe being untitled isn’t so bad. To me, being untitled means being free to make choices and decisions that aren’t defined by a headline. It’s a responsibility, and a risk. But after years and years of boxes and labels it’s one I’m willing to take. There will come a time where titles will matter, but for today (in a manner of speaking) I choose to be free. I choose to be untitled.

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