What does success actually mean to you?

For most of us, the definition arrived early and uninvited.
Do well in school.
Get a respectable job.
Earn more.
Keep earning.

It sounds reasonable. Almost kind.
But I am not convinced it leads to lasting happiness.

Because the moment you reach one milestone, another one appears.
A new benchmark.
A higher bar.
A quieter dissatisfaction.

You are never done. You are just briefly relieved.

This kind of success depends on the next achievement to feel complete. And there is always a next one waiting. Always something better to chase. Something shinier. Something just out of reach.

So we postpone contentment.
We delay living.
We tell ourselves, later.

I am learning to question that script.

Success, for me, is not a title or a number. It is not something society gets to name on my behalf. It is something personal. Something felt.

A good job is not one that looks impressive from the outside. It is one that gives me a sense of purpose. One that lets me end the day without feeling hollow.

Maybe success is not a destination at all.
Maybe it is a daily experience.

Something quiet.
Something lived.
Something you can feel, even on an ordinary Tuesday.

And maybe that is enough.