Like no matter what I do, the universe nudges everyone else forward while I’m stuck in a waiting room with flickering lights and the faint smell of old coffee.

I watch people glide through life, meeting the right person at the right time, getting opportunities I can’t even imagine, and I wonder if I missed some secret memo. And then I get angry at myself for thinking that way — because maybe luck isn’t something you’re given, maybe it’s just the way you look at the chaos. 😤

But how do you train your eyes to see chaos as blessing? To feel gratitude when every plan collapses, every text goes unanswered, every small dream slips through your fingers? Sometimes I think I would trade patience for certainty in a heartbeat. And yet, I can’t stop hoping that one day, something will break my streak — that I’ll walk down a street and a random smile, a random choice, a random coincidence, will remind me I belong in the story too.

Do we ever really get lucky, or do we just keep convincing ourselves that it’s coming while we drift? ❓ I like to think the universe has a sense of humor, and maybe mine is still in the mail. Until then, I laugh at my own misfortune and collect the tiny sparks anyway. ✨