Novelas y relatos de Overthinking Poems

I pressed send. The message disappeared from the screen. And then I waited. Five minutes passed. No response. I stared at the screen. There was no reply. No indication that he had seen the message. I placed the phone on the desk, but my eyes remained fixed on it. Perhaps he was busy. Perhaps he was somewhere he could not respond. Perhaps something had happened. I immediately frowned at the thought. That was exactly how overthinking began. One unanswered message became two. Two became an assumption.

*** ### The Immediate Shift Everything aligned— *** then resisted. *** ### The Internal Collision The fracture inside her surged— not outward— *** inward. *** Folding. *** Compressing. *** The expanded awareness she had gained— the layered perception— the ability to see patterns forming before they completed— *** all of it reacted at once. *** ### Too Much There were too many ways to think. Too many ways to see. Too many ways to *be*. *** And now— *** they were being forced into one.

I whispered to myself. I should take it easy now. I am starting to over think again for which I really hate it. I really want to slap myself right now because it doesn’t really do me good. Overthinking seems to be my sister for a long time now, I want to disown it to my family in my head!

As I shut the door and leaned against it, I let out a deep breath. Then I padded across the wooden floor to the bed and sank down, my fingers brushing the edge of the thick wool blanket. My legs were tired. I stared down at my trembling hands and clenched them into fists, trying to steady my breath. I had to stop thinking like this. Overthinking never saved me. It only kept destroying and I tend to conclude things a lot.” But still… I couldn’t shut it off. I kept asking myself the same questions in my head, over and over again.

I hate being me sometimes. “You always overthink everything. Maybe for once in your life, just stop. Look at this in a more basic way. Who can you not live without? Who do you fantasize about?” Nate leans back against the window and cradles his beer, looking down to the side and the girls for a moment as I stare at him. He watches them intensely and smiles my way when I take too long to respond.

That joke was spot on. "Terrific. Laugh it up. Using jokes as a means of closing off topics you don't feel the need to discuss don't work on me. What did you do?" His voice was more steady this time. "I didn't do anything, maybe it's your guilty conscience for all the terrible things you've done that makes you think this way, always imagining the shadows lurking around, you're not at peace with yourself. That's what you're looking for anyone else but yourself, I'd call you an over thinker but that's too good. I didn't do anything."

“Let me guess—this is one of those ‘good and bad at the same time’ situations.” Kael answered from behind them. “Yes.” Lucian exhaled. “I’m starting to hate it when you say that.” --- The system pulsed again, steady but cautious. Raven’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It’s thinking too much.” Kael stepped forward, his focus sharp. “No. It’s processing more.” “That’s the same thing,” Raven said. “No,” Kael replied calmly. “Processing leads to decisions. Overthinking prevents them.” Ethan glanced at him. “And which one is this?”

Elleanna turned on Weight of the World by citizen Soldier on her phone and sang along to it “Feel the weight of the world…over me tonight….if i break…if i break down this time..hope you know I tried…my mind’s such a mess..I can’t handle it…I’m at the end of my rope…I’m so sick of this…just so over it…why won’t you let me let go?…my neck is breaking..body shaking..sometimes it’s so hard to breathe..but no one sees…it follows me..I always end up..underneath…the weight of the world..I don’t like…like myself very much…despite all your kind words…can’t explain why I’m hurting myself..but it feels deserved…my mind’s such a mess..I can’t handle it..I’m at the end of my rope..I’m so sick of this..I’

"What are you going to do with all that?" I looked at my basket and realized that in my useless thinking, I had picked whatever my hands could reach. What I was doing with cheese in my basket when we had a boat load of it at home, I don't know. Sponges, soap? When did I put them in my basket? What if someone had want them there when... I was doing it again. Overthinking and asking a lot of questions I couldn't answer. “I put it there. You put it there Vanya. You just weren't alive to your surroundings. Someone might have stabbed you from the back and you.... Again! Stop!”

The sound on the hood is this. The splash under foot is this. The chill in the air is this. The quickened step is this. No walker apart from walking. No rain apart from raining. Only this. The ordinary thought of tomorrow is this. The plan forming is this. The worry creeping is this. The excitement sparking is this. The forgetting is this. The remembering is this. No thinker apart from thinking. No tomorrow apart from imagining. Only this. The ordinary ache in the shoulder is this. The tension held is this.