Overthinking
So simple in definition.
So complex in application.
Overthinking is more than thinking for too long or too hard.
Overthinking is when you have ropes around your wrists that are tied to nothing. Yet, you cannot move freely.
Overthinking is reading your favorite book, but there is not a definitive ending. The possibilities are endless, and yet, you cannot arrive at any end.
Overthinking is forgetting the action that supposedly no one forgets. Suddenly, you crash your bike.
Overthinking is having every color of the rainbow in your mind, but you can only speak in grays, blacks, whites, colorless diction. The art is non-existent. You refuse to let it exist.
Overthinking is apologizing and begging for forgiveness, even if you were proven innocent. In fact, there were no signs that pointed towards you were guilty. You made yourself the prime suspect.
We do not choose to think this way. No one wants to be hindered by their own mind, trapped in a cage with the key in their dominant hand.
When you are with the people you know are your friends, you cannot help but think there is some issue. Every little comment, good or bad, has some deeper meaning. They must hate you, they must resent you, why would they want to be around you?
Your family is always there. You know this. You know this as a lie, fake, they will turn their backs on you. They may put up with you, but the support is simply imaginary.
Every morning, your childhood room is a foreign place. You do not own your surroundings, even though you specifically remember buying that book. That same book you, for some reason, refuse to finish.
You could be the most renown musician, but to you, your music is meaningless noise. All the people in the crowd, frauds. That Grammy is plastic, the platinum album is cardboard.
Sleep paralysis with insomnia, failing midterms with an IQ of 150, survivors guilt for someone alive.
Overthinking makes no senses, and we know we do not make any sense. Destructive creations fuel our actions.
We hate ourselves for not thinking logically, but the illogical is the logical.
We want, need, hope for it to stop, but it persists. Why do we make ourselves think the things we do?
Because we are overthinkers.
Overthinking encapsulates us.
We do not choose to be this way. We do not wake up every day and decide to ruin–or think we are ruining—every minuscule thing that brings some happiness.
The worst part? You want people to understand your plight, but they cannot. It is impossible to believe the lies, to just relax and seriously reflect on a situation.
You know your friends will always be by your side, they will never leave, and if you would just contact them, they would be more than happy to be with you.
But why would they want to understand anything about you? Why would they want to be with you?
They are not your friends, remember?
Once again, another situation.
Overthought.
