Crying in the Shower, Snacking on Chocolate, and Other Life Skills

Life Was Made to F*ck It Up

I used to chase that movie-perfect version of life, where you wake up at seven on the dot and everything magically falls into place. I pictured myself with color-coded planners, perfect grades, flawless comebacks, and a ponytail so smooth it could be in a shampoo commercial. Spoiler alert: none of that actually happened.

Most days, I found myself staring at the ceiling, wondering why I couldn’t pull it together, and then crying about it for longer than I want to admit.

I tried really hard to make it work, and I kept wondering what else I could have done for everything to finally fall into place. I didn’t read self-help books, but I did watch Legally Blonde for motivation more times than I want to admit. I tried to do it the way Rory Gilmore would. I read, I studied, I made flashcards on serious colored paper, not the pink ones, for once in my life. And even though I can’t say I’m bad at school, because that is the one area that somehow works in my favor, life still doesn’t feel like it should.

Where is my perfect clean-girl routine? Why can’t I wake up, drink my matcha, go to Pilates, come back home, and keep living that healthy, balanced lifestyle? Why do I end up eating chocolate and snacking until I fall asleep?

And then I step into the shower, and suddenly I’m just standing there, staring at my own body as the water runs over me. I start wondering whether the pretty girls are always sure of themselves. Do they really admire their reflections every morning, or is everyone secretly fighting the same battle I am? I picture someone out there who wakes up glowing, confident, and overflowing with joy, and the comparison sinks its teeth into me all over again.

My mind spirals right back to the same place. I still can’t seem to stick to a routine or build the kind of life I dream about, the one filled with easy friendships, steady money, peaceful early mornings, and a sense of control that never slips through my fingers. Instead, my days often feel like the city is playing a joke on me, like the moment I try to get it together, some car drives by and sends a wave of dirty rainwater all over my new coat.

I always promise myself that this will be the moment I grow a backbone and finally change everything, but then I end up rushing, running late, messing up, and sinking right back into my habits. I find myself in the kitchen again at night, snacking on chocolate like it’s the only thing that understands me, wondering how other people manage to make their lives look so beautifully put together while mine keeps coming undone at the seams.

So, as Carrie Bradshaw would famously say, I can’t help but wonder if anyone truly has a good life, or if we are all just incredibly committed actors. Maybe we pretend to be on some higher level, making everyone else feel like they’re falling behind, while in reality our own level is sitting somewhere far below sea level and we are quietly drowning in our own tears.

At some point, while listening to other people talk about their perfect routines and perfect relationships, I decided it was all complete nonsense. Every single one of us is carrying something messy behind the curtain. We all have secrets we would never put on Instagram, family members who make holidays feel like emotional obstacle courses, and exes who pop up like uninvited ghosts.

All these messes are what actually make life worth living, because they are how we connect, how we bind through shared chaos and trauma. They prove, in a weird way, that after all, we are just human. Every time something goes wrong, it strangely pulls us closer to others. You might have won a medal and find yourself alone, but trust me, if your flight is delayed, there will always be someone next to you complaining, laughing, or sharing the same frustration.

None of us sit around reading books about perfect, stuck-up, bleached blondes with generational wealth, but we show up when there is gossip to be spilled or when some famous actor admits their life was a mess at the peak of their fame. Somehow, those moments make us feel less alone, like maybe everyone is figuring it out as they go, even the people who look like they have it all.

And that’s the thing: life was practically made for us to mess it up. If we were all perfect, how would Santa even know who’s naughty or nice? Let’s be honest: I can always count on my bad luck to show up at the worst moment possible, shake things up, and make sure I never feel completely on top of my game for too long.

All the hotties I know always have the most shocking stories. Running away from home, getting into fights, doing the most unnecessary things that leave your jaw on the floor. But believe me, these are the people you secretly want to trade lives with. Somehow, their wild, chaotic energy always lands them in the right place at the right time, grabbing the best opportunities while the rest of us are still trying to figure out what day it is.

Honestly, that’s the lesson I keep stealing from them. Life is messy, chaotic, and a little ridiculous, and that’s exactly what makes it worth living. The girls who break the rules, who yell at the world and still show up glowing, know something we forget when we’re busy trying to be perfect. They know that getting lost, falling flat, eating the chocolate, and crying in the shower isn’t failure; it’s the tangled, glorious path that somehow leads you exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Perfection is overrated. Chocolate and bad decisions are where the magic really happens.