Alright, so, let me paint you a picture. You know how people say, “Oh, I lost everything, it’s the worst!”? Yeah, well, I’m over here like, “Hold my beer, I’ve done it twice.” That’s right, folks. I’m not even the unluckiest person on Earth — I’m just the idiot who keeps trying to build sandcastles in a hurricane. And let me tell you, the universe’s Success Stepper? I’m basically doing calf raises on that thing like I’m training for the Olympics of Failure.

Here’s the thing: I want things that aren’t easily gotten. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because I’m a self-flagellist, or maybe it’s because I watched too many Rocky movies as a kid and thought, “Yeah, that’s the life — getting the crap kicked out of you until you somehow win.” But here’s the kicker: every time I get close to something I’ve worked years for, it all goes up in flames. Twice. TWICE. Like, what kind of sick joke is this? Did I piss off a wizard in a past life? Did I accidentally step on a leprechaun? I don’t know, but here we are.

And let me tell you, the whole experience feels like absolute shit. I get why people turn to God or Magic 8 balls or whatever. You’re sitting there, staring at the rubble of what you built, and you’re like, “How the hell do I move past this?” And then, just when you think you’re gonna drown in despair, a new idea pops into your head. It’s like your brain’s way of saying, “Hey, dummy, remember that thing you love? Let’s try it again!” And you’re like, “Oh, great, here we go.” And then the despair comes back because you realize you’re about to do it all over again.

I caught up with an old boyfriend the other day, and he asked me if I was bored. BORED. I didn’t even know where to start. Do I tell him about the dumpster fire that is my life on paper? Do I explain how I’m basically the human equivalent of a Netflix documentary about people who keep making the same mistakes? Nah, I just said, “Bored? No, never bored.” And from those three sentences, you might think I’m out here creating chaos just to keep things interesting. But no, there’s a world of difference between never bored and mired in chaos. Trust me, I’m not trying to be the star of my own personal soap opera.

Every time I’ve stared down the barrel of a safe but boring life choice, I’ve serpentined like hell to get out of its sights. I can’t do boring. I just can’t. But here’s the kicker: I’m not out here chasing chaos for the thrill of it. I’m chasing a glorious success with ordered ducks — a nice place to enjoy breakfast, medical care, regular vacations, an office with a view. You know, regular stuff. The kind of stuff that might bore someone else to tears. But to me? That’s the dream.

Right now, though, I can’t even paint a clear picture of how I got here. How did the world shift in such a way that all my projects derailed at once? What the hell do I do with this information? Do I just keep going? Do I start over again? I don’t know. But what I do know is this: giving up sounds boring. Yeah, it sucks. Yeah, it’s hard. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from losing everything twice, it’s that I’m still here. And as long as I’m still here, I gotta engage in a way that’s a little bit interesting to me.

So, universe, if you’re listening: let’s keep playing your little game. But maybe go easy on me this time. How about some marginal success? I don’t know how many more of these I’ve got in me.