A cryptic griping. Skip this one.

It's when you think you've got your feet firmly planted that the rug inevitably flies out from underneath.
It's pretty much impossible to please everyone at once--and since, to a despicable degree, my own sense of fulfillment relies on appeasing other people, I also have trouble pleasing myself. It's all just a brutal cycle of blundering and flapping about like mad to keep everybody happy. No amount of chaotic scrambling ever gets me anywhere, but the scrambling doesn't stop. I wish I'd get the clue.

It would all be so much easier if I didn't take the falls so personally.
And if people weren't so sharp-edged some of the time. It's probably not meant to be taken personally, probably just a lack of social etiquette, but still.

Drop it, Nilly.
Gravity always wins.