Somebody somewhere sold us the idea that adulthood comes with a manual. Bills? Paid on time. Relationships? Smooth sailing. Career? Straight ladder to success. The truth? Most of us are out here freelancing life—winging it with a straight face, hoping nobody notices the panic behind our “I’m good.”
It hits you in the little moments. You stare at your fridge, wondering if the chicken is still safe to eat, so you Google it. You tell your friends you’ve got a “five-year plan,” when really, the only thing you’ve got mapped out is what you’re ordering for dinner. You nod along in meetings like you know what’s happening, then run to YouTube later to figure it out. That’s not failure—that’s just the universal script nobody wants to admit they’re reading from.
The wildest part? We all think we’re the only ones fumbling. Your friend with the picture-perfect Instagram? Probably just argued with their landlord about late fees. That couple you’re convinced has the dream relationship? They spent two hours fighting over where to eat and ended up ordering pizza anyway. That coworker with the “big salary”? Secretly scrolling Indeed at 2 a.m., wondering if they should’ve gone to nursing school instead. Behind every polished exterior is a human juggling chaos and hoping it doesn’t show too much.
Here’s the bold truth: nobody has it all figured out. Not the 20-year-olds hustling through college and side gigs, not the 30-somethings balancing kids, mortgages, and burnout, not even the 50-year-olds still asking, “What do I wanna be when I grow up?” Life doesn’t hand out blueprints—it hands out bricks, and you’re left to stack them however you can. Sometimes the wall leans, sometimes it crumbles, and sometimes you surprise yourself by building something solid.
And maybe that’s freeing. If perfection is a myth, then mistakes stop being shameful. They just become part of the story. That awful haircut you swore ruined your social life? Now it’s just a funny throwback. That job you thought was “the one” before it fell apart? Probably pushed you toward something better. That friendship that ended in silence? It still taught you how to show up differently for the next one.
We spend so much time waiting to “arrive”—at success, stability, happiness—that we forget the arrival never comes. The point isn’t to land somewhere final. The point is to live through the messy middle. To laugh when things fall apart, to say yes to opportunities that scare you, to call your mama when you can’t fold a fitted sheet.
Because at the end of the day, life isn’t about getting it “right.” It’s about making it yours. And yours might look messy, confusing, and nothing like you planned—and that’s exactly what makes it worth living.
Besides, who really wants a predictable story?
