Let me start with toast—because, honestly, isn’t that how most tragedies begin? So, last week I woke up feeling like a responsible adult. This is it, I told myself. Today I’ll be productive. I’ll sit for three whole hours, study the college material, even though exams are three months away, and basically become the poster child of discipline. Honestly, I could already imagine future me giving TED Talks about time management.

But apparently, the universe overheard me and thought, How adorable. Let’s ruin that.

The Wi-Fi went down before I’d even opened my notes. Then I spilt my coffee all over the kitchen floor, and my mom gave me her standard lecture: “How exactly do you plan on surviving without me if you can’t even mop up your mess?” Before I could defend my honour, I burned my toast. Completely black. Like, charcoal-level black. Even the dog looked disappointed in me. And you know what? Instead of exploding in frustration and crying like the hot mess that I am, I just stood there laughing like a lunatic at my own life. Because clearly, the joke wasn’t the burnt toast—it was me, thinking I actually had control over my morning.

That’s when it clicked: life is basically stand-up comedy, and the universe is the comedian. The real punchline? We’re the ones trying to play along like it’s serious business. We think we’ve got rules, plans, and systems—and then life comes along with ADHD energy, changing the game every five seconds. And here we are, shocked. Like, why? Did we really think the universe was going to play fair?

Here’s the secret nobody wants to admit: the universe does not care. At all. It doesn’t need your permission to throw chaos at you. It’s basically that one overenthusiastic toddler finger-painting on the walls, while you’re in the corner, stressing about how to clean it up. Newsflash: the paint is already smeared. Either grab a brush and join in, or keep complaining—both ways, the wall’s ruined. And yet, most of us (me included) keep trying to control things. We walk around with colour-coded planners, like life will be impressed. I used to think that if I could just predict the plot of my life, I could avoid the disasters. Spoiler: life doesn’t come with spoilers. It’s not a neat little book. It’s not even a decent Netflix series. It’s straight-up reality TV—messy, dramatic, and you’re constantly wondering, Why am I still watching this nonsense? But you don’t switch it off, because somehow you’re hooked.

And honestly? That’s the beauty of it.

When things go wrong, you get two choices: fight the chaos and make yourself miserable, or laugh at the absurdity of it all. I used to pick Option A—clenched fists, grinding teeth, muttering under my breath like a villain in a bad soap opera. But lately, I’ve been trying Option B: laugh. When the Wi-Fi crashes, laugh. When Pinterest lies about a “five-minute DIY” that turns into a hostage situation, laugh. When I am frantically searching for my college ID at 7 am and find it sitting smugly under my pillow that night, I laugh. Because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry. And trust me, nobody needs more tears over burnt toast or bad Wi-Fi.

Somewhere along the way, we convinced ourselves that we need permission—to fail, to mess up, to not have our lives perfectly figured out. But if the universe doesn’t wait for your permission to throw curveballs, why are you waiting for permission to live? Burn the toast. Forget your umbrella. Trip over your own feet in public. Who cares? The universe is going to keep doing its thing whether you approve or not. And let’s be real: the less you stress about getting everything “perfect,” the more fun this whole disaster of a ride becomes. Life isn’t some well-rehearsed dance performance. It’s like stumbling into an impromptu dance party where everyone’s doing their own weird moves. At first, you’re awkwardly stepping on toes and looking for rhythm, but the second you stop caring about choreography and just let yourself dance badly, it becomes fun. And maybe that’s the whole point—stop trying to lead the music and just join the chaos.

Now, don’t get me wrong. You’ll still cry sometimes. We all do. Nights where everything feels too heavy, where life is overwhelming, where you just want to tap out. But that’s part of it, too. Cry if you need to—but balance it with laughter. Because the universe? Oh, it’s already laughing at you anyway. Not in a cruel “ha-ha, you suck” way (well, maybe sometimes), but in a cheeky “look at this human thinking they had it all under control” kind of way. The moment you laugh along, you stop being the butt of the joke and become part of the comedy. That’s the rebellious part. Laugh at the randomness. Burn the toast. Dance off-beat. Mess up your DIYs. Stop giving so much weight to perfection and start permitting yourself to just exist, however messy that looks. The universe clearly doesn’t care about your plans, so why not stop waiting for approval to live? Because here’s the thing: the real joke isn’t that life is unfair. The real joke is that we thought we were ever in charge. And once you get that, every little failure feels less like a tragedy and more like a sitcom episode. Wi-Fi down? Season 3, Episode 6 “The Internet Dies”. Burnt toast? Pilot episode (obviously). Mom’s lecture? That’s a recurring guest star.

So the next time everything goes sideways—and it will—don’t grind your teeth and resist. Take a breath, roll your eyes, and laugh. Say, Well played, Universe. Well played. Because life was never about having it all together. It was always about learning to surf the chaos with a grin on your face. And maybe that’s the punchline: you don’t need permission to live, or to fail, or to be a glorious hot mess. The universe is going to keep painting outside the lines no matter what. So you might as well pick up a brush, make your own mess, and laugh your way through it. Because at the end of the day, life doesn’t need your permission to happen. But you can permit yourself to enjoy the ride.

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