Novelas y relatos de Overthinking Poems

For me, the best antidote to overthinking is to keep my mind on other things. I drafted an outline of my new book.

E was looking like a poor kid, who has been suffered emotionally that any form of kindness to him, he starts to doubt and even get confused about what is happening. “I am. It’s just, so many things are running through my mind at the same time, and it’s proving me to be unable to concentrate. I keep zoning out. I’m sorry, I should be able to figure out my thinking in few minutes.” Adam’s hands came out to hold mine. He made sure to lace out fingers together. I was at loss for words, I had no idea on what to say. I just noddded my head. And I started to overthink like I usually do. That was my speciality in all things amongst others.

There had to be a reason, something that explained it all, yet the answers remained frustratingly out of reach. With another sigh, I closed the journal and leaned back. “Maybe I am overthinking things,” I murmured, my voice barely a whisper in the stillness of the room. So much had happened in my life, so many twists and turns that sometimes it felt overwhelming. But I knew one thing for sure—I couldn’t let myself drown in these endless questions. My hands instinctively rested on my belly, feeling the gentle rise and fall as I breathed. “I need to focus on the present,” I reminded myself, a soft smile spreading across my face.

Keenan's POV: As we pull up to the bar Adam gets giddy like a kid in a candy store. I look at him and laugh. "Why are you so hyped up right now? it's just a bar. " "Because bro. it's not just a bar. it's a new bar for our kind. " "I still don't understand. " I said shaking my head and getting out of the car. "Maybe you'll understand when we get in there. " He smiles and patted my back.

I asked, “I'm not sure this is the perfect time for this conversation, or any conversation at all. Drowning sets you at the risk of brain damage, and I wouldn't want to risk it. Get some rest, we'll talk later.” With that, he helped me lay back on the bed. I faced the ceiling, still thinking. That was the problem. I was always thinking! All I did was think! That was what got me into this mess again. Overthinking. I was clouding my head with too many possibilities that it resulted in lies. I groaned. “Are you comfortable?” He asked, “I'm fine.” I replied, “I'll be leaving now. I need to scan the town and keep everything in check. I'll be back by evening.”

He sighs, "You've poured more than enough honey on your pancakes, princess." My eyes widen and I look at my plate. I huff and put the bottle on the table. Why am I dreaming in daylight? "I apologize," I mutter and hold the piece to stuff it into my mouth. "No worries. And yeah my love, don't think so much. I know it's impossible to forget what happened in the past but whenever you feel like your mind is struggling, just take some deep breaths and push the thought out of your mind." I nod at his words. He knows my habit of overthinking and we can't help it. Overthinking feels like a disorder sometimes and to me, it's the most dangerous disease.

I need to stop thinking’ So I had this problem, this tendency of seeing everything and anything analytically, and I tend to put it in a poem manner. It was a habit I couldn’t stop. Every time I was faced with something I would start analyzing it up until it becomes a poem. The moment it becomes a poem, I start understanding the situation better, then I become overwhelmed. Growing up alone, well not alone, but growing up with no one to talk to, turn to with my problems, it caused me to stay more in my mind than I could wish.

Last night, I had sat at my desk, notebook open, mind empty. The words refused to come. I chewed on my pen cap, glared at the poem in front of me, and willed it to make sense—to tell me what it wanted, to whisper some hidden truth that I could shape into an acceptable analysis. But my brain had offered me nothing. From across the room, Mia had watched my slow descent into madness. She lay sprawled on my bed, scrolling through her phone without a care in the world. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you just… stopped overthinking.”

She managed perhaps three pages before realising she had read the same paragraph four times without taking in a single word. Her mind simply refused to settle. Instead, it drifted back to work. Had she attached the correct document to that final email? Would Martin notice she had reorganised his entire schedule? Should she have spoken up during the afternoon meeting instead of apologising when Simon interrupted her? She sighed. Overthinking really should qualify as an Olympic sport. "You look thoughtful." The waitress had returned to clear an empty glass from the neighbouring table. "I think too much." She smiled knowingly. "Most people in here on Fridays are trying to stop thinking."

I just opened the door and got in, quietly hoping he wouldn’t suddenly increase the fare. The car pulled away, and the ride began. It felt longer than it actually was. I sat back, my eyes fixed ahead, but my mind refused to stay in one place. It kept moving… from the job, to my grandpa, to everything waiting for me, to last night, to the quiet hot man from the bar…whoever the hell he was, to Evan. I shifted slightly in my seat, exhaling through my nose. An overthinker might be an underrated way to describe me.