Am I Being scammed?

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8.20.2025

Well…. It’s been a while. What should we talk about today?

I’ve been suffering from an empty heart lately.

I mean, I’ve almost always suffered from that. But these days, I’m going through one of those phases where the lack of a greater purpose – or just a purpose, any purpose – is clawing at me. Most people have something. Religion. Startups. Hikes. A romance or ex that keeps them spinning. But what about me?

At night, when that dull, heavy ache presses against my ribs, like it’s trying to burst out of me, I think of everyone else- laughing, loving, posting brunch photos. And then I think “what about me?”

Why can’t I be so happy or fulfilled or so joyous? Why and what about me?

I’m not clueless. I know there are people who would switch places with me in a heartbeat. Just being able to complain like this IS a privilege. I know that. I understand that.

But still. Sometimes – just sometimes and on some nights – I find myself clawing at my scalp wondering, out of all the mysteries in this world… is this going to be one too? That “what about me?”

Last night was one of those nights.

So naturally I woke up a little underwhelmed today. I didn’t say sad. Just… underwhelmed.

Anyway, as I was casually browsing YouTube today, I came across this video where Mel Robbins was interviewing a guy about synchronicities and the universe. You know the type. You probably watch those with a raised eyebrow too – if not full-on skepticism.

But I didn’t mind today. I pressed play. Because honestly, I just wanted to believe in something for a second. Even if it was fake. Even if it was just for the length of a YouTube video. Let my brain offload some of its misery onto this vague idea of the universe and pretend, just for a while, that I don’t have to fight this alone.

Both of them shared stories on what makes something a synchronicity (aka sign from the universe) vs just a coincidence.

I mean it was an okay-ish video. Nothing life-changing was shared. At the end of it, however, Mel says we must believe that the universe has our back. She borderline insists on it. Then she suggested that right after this video ends, we try an experiment: look for the sign of a heart out in nature. And that if you look for it, you’ll get it and you’ll know the universe has your back.

I scoff.

I was mid-pose in yoga, and I was like – come on. A heart?! A fucking heart?!! I’m sure I can find that anywhere. What a joke. What a scam.

I spring up. I look around my house. My eyes land on the bookshelf. Surely, one of these book spines has a heart on it? Five minutes in – none do. I run to the kitchen. Surely something in the groceries, a food packet, anything? Still nothing.

Then, finally, I found one. A small heart on a coffee bean packet a friend had given me. I made a face, said out loud, “See? Told you. Easy. Not a sign. Not even a coincidence. Just branding.”

About fifteen minutes later, I was getting ready to shower. And I noticed this paper bag flapping around in the backyard. I’d had a croissant in the morning and forgot to throw it out. I slid open the patio door and went to pick it up. I crumbled it in my hand and was about to walk back in when I noticed a bright green plastic bag lying nearby.

I remembered it. Two days ago, I’d seen it drifting lazily from one corner of the yard to the other. Hard to miss – it was bright green, practically glowing. Otherwise, I would’ve forgotten it entirely. My memory’s crap. I didn’t pick it up then, obviously. I mean, you can’t be cleaning every time the wind decides to redecorate your backyard, can you?

But now, as I’m standing by the patio door with the crumpled croissant bag in one hand, I see it again. The green plastic bag. A little farther off. Just lying there like it’s daring me to deal with it.

And I pause. I could just go back inside. Pretend I didn’t see it. But now I’m stuck in this weird moral stand-off with a piece of trash. Should I pick it up? Should I not? I’m thinking and thinking, like it’s some high-stakes decision. It’s not a wild animal, it’s not going to bite me. It’s a bag. A stupid, possibly moldy, definitely wind-swept bag.

And then I roll my eyes, sigh like a martyr, and give in. Fine. I’ll be the good citizen today.

So I walk over. I bend down. And lo and behold – right there, staring back at me from the stupid green plastic bag, are cartoon dogs. Covered. In. Tiny. Heart. Shapes.