We tell ourselves stories about cosmic justice. The bully peaks in high school. The cheater gets cheated on. Bad people get what’s coming to them.
These stories feel true because we need them to feel true.
The alternative is too unsettling. That sometimes terrible people live wonderful lives. That kindness goes unrewarded. That the universe is indifferent to our sense of fairness.
I catch myself doing this constantly. When someone cuts me off in traffic, I imagine them getting pulled over five minutes later. When a politician lies, I picture their eventual downfall. It’s automatic.
But the universe doesn’t actually keep score. Lightning doesn’t preferentially strike the wicked. Cancer doesn’t check your moral record first.
This isn’t depressing once you sit with it. It’s clarifying.
If the universe won’t balance the scales, maybe we need to. Not through revenge fantasies, but through how we choose to act. The kindness we show. The justice we create in small ways.
The universe’s indifference isn’t a bug. It’s a feature. It means the good we do matters because we chose it, not because some cosmic accountant demanded it.
Bad people sometimes win. Good people sometimes suffer. And somehow, that makes choosing goodness more meaningful, not less.