Navigating the Cosmic Complaint Box: Letters to Karma

Addressed To:

The Divine Quarters,

The Halls of Cosmic Equilibrium,

Karma Suite 11,


Karma, The Cosmic Prankster.

Dear karma, I really hate you right now, you made your point ~ Otillie Weber

My karma, I've been climbing this mountain of life, sweat dripping down my brow and determination burning in my heart, only to find myself at a precipice, staring into the abyss of unattainable heights. I must admit, I'm not a huge fan of yours right now. You've thrown a few too many curveballs my way lately, and I'm starting to feel like I'm stuck in a never-ending cycle of cosmic payback. With each step upward, doubts arise, questioning whether the hurdles I encounter are karmic echoes of my past deeds or if I am trapped in an inescapable cycle of debts, forever wrestling with the elusive essence of success and fulfillment. 

And yes karma, I'll admit, I've made my share of missteps. I've been a fool, yes, a dreamer with stars in my eyes and no map to guide me. But surely, I've paid my dues, sweated my karma off, haven't I? I used to dream of a life among the constellations, basking in the glow of success and confidence. But now, I wonder if this yearning is destined to remain an insatiable hunger, a never-ending quest for an elusive prize. If every action, every choice, every misspoken word is destined to boomerang back, then we're all doomed, karma.

Presently, life holds a certain beauty to me, a realization that escaped me in the past. Yet, I can't help but question the fairness of a life where you make me pay dearly for foolish mistakes I made as a child, when wisdom was a distant companion. Is it too late to truly live if every step is shadowed by the weight of repaying past debts? 

I'm fed up with this constant back-and-forth struggle we've got going on. Amid this tangled dance with fate, I find comfort in my thoughts, where I can dream up whatever I please. I imagine summoning a genie, to ask for just three wishes, three tools to navigate your labyrinth of life.

First, I'd crave the gift of foresight, eyes that could pierce the veil of time and reveal the path that lies ahead. I'd see the consequences of my choices unfold before me, a life GPS guiding me through your maze of life.

Next, I'd wish for a time machine, a portal to the past where I could confront my younger self, the impetuous, impulsive version who didn't quite understand the weight of her actions. I'd whisper words of caution, gently steer her away from the pitfalls that lie ahead. 

And my final wish, dear karma, I'd keep close to my chest, a secret weapon to deploy when you come knocking, ready to collect on my past transgressions only to discover I've outwitted you. 

In the words of Cat Adams, "It's already bad, and I'm honestly not sure how much worse it's going to get." For if you have a darker chapter yet to reveal, the specter of death seems a paltry consequence compared to the uncertainties laid bare in this letter. If there's a deeper abyss, well, let it come—I'm ready.


An undettered soul. 


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