The Illusion of Getting it Right
Life isn't a formula. So why are we pretending it is?
We’re all chasing this invisible version of the “right life.”
Graduate with good grades. Choose a “stable” career. Be productive. Stay happy but not dramatic. Make everyone proud. Don’t fall behind.
And somewhere in the rush to do everything “correctly”, we forget to ask— do I even want this?
I’ve realized that trying to “get it right” doesn’t mean it feels right. You can tick all the boxes and still lie in bed wondering why you feel like a stranger in your own life.
This isn’t about rebellion or being different for the sake of it. It’s about getting honest. About asking what my version of right looks like. And maybe… letting go of the need to always have it.
the script we’re given
The idea of the “right” life, the “correct” life is handed to us early. From a young age, we’re taught how life is supposed to go. Not directly—but through subtle nudges, loud expectations, and constant comparisions. Eventually, it gets to the point that we start holding ourselves true to the script, making sure we’re doing everything right. We start pushing ourselves, comparing ourselves with our peers and hold ourselves to harsh expectations all while convincing the voice in our head saying ‘‘this isn’t how it should go” otherwise.
And the thing is the script isn’t inherently “evil”. It’s just inherited. Passed down through generations, systems, cultures.
But it’s rigid. And it doesn’t account for individuality, softness, confusion, or the messy parts that actually make life real.
the quiet pressure to perform
Even when life looks fine on paper, there’s this low, constant hum of pressure—to be something. To not fall behind. To always be achieving, progressing, improving.
You wake up and immediately feel like you’re in a race. You scroll and see people your age doing things you haven’t even dreamt of yet.
So you overwork. You fake stability. You keep smiling in group chats. Even if you’re tired. Even if your chest feels heavy. Even if none of it makes you feel alive.
Because if you stop, even for a moment, it feels like you’ll fall behind forever.
That’s what this illusion does—it convicnes us that stillness equals failure. That softness equals weakness. That not knowing what’s next means you’re wasting time.
when doing everything right still feels wrong
I remember the moment I realized something was off.
I had done everything I thought I was supposed to—kept up, worked hard, smiled through it all.
And yet, lying in bed one night, I felt this hollow kind of ache. Like I was performing a version of myself that everyone else seemed to admire—except me.
That’s the strangest part of the illusion: it doesn’t break loudly.
It cracks slowly.
In quiet moments. In your own head.
Doing everything “right” doesn’t guarantee peace. And sometimes, the life you’ve built just… doesn’t fit anymore.
choosing a different way
I don’t have it all figured out. But I’ve started asking harder, quiter questions:
What do I want, outside of the noise?
What kind of life feels honest—even if it looks messy?
Who am I, when I’m not trying to impress or prove anything?
And maybe that’s the beginning.
Not of rebillion—but of something softer.
Slower. Truer.
Letting myself move at my pace. Letting uncertainty breathe. Letting go of timelines that were never mine to begin with.
there is no final draft
The truth is: there is no perfect version of life waiting to be unlocked.
There’s no final draft to arrive at. No gold star for doing it “correctly”.
We’re all winging it. Some of us are just louder about it than others. So maybe, instead of trying to get it right, we just try to get it real.
Let your life be rough around the edges.
Let it be confusing, unfinished, unfiltered.
Let it be yours.
You don’t owe the world a perfect version of you.
You just owe yourself an honest one.
