We live to stub toes on furniture at night,
To eat cereal for dinner when nothing feels right.
We live for texts that say “thinking of you,”
And laughing so hard that your shoe flies too.

We live to mess up—then try again twice,
To burn the rice, forget the spice,
But still sit down with someone who smiles
And says, “Well hey, at least we tried.”

We live for art, and memes, and socks,
For stolen fries and paradox.
We live to cry at 3AM,
Then Google, “What would Oprah recommend?”

We live for those moments when we’re not okay,
We live for songs that hit too hard,
For healing in the form of scars.
We live for jokes that bomb and fly—
For dancing dumb under a peach-pink sky.

We live to find out what happens next.
To mail our souls in heartfelt texts.
To lose, to love, to fall, to mend—
To write the next line we didn’t intend.

So when life feels more “ugh” than divine,
Take heart—it’s just a plot twist in your storyline.
You’re still the main character, script in hand...
Now roll credits—or better yet, stand.