Yes, I analyze everything regarding you and our ‘relationship’. I dissect every move you make, in the search of hidden meanings. I question and check literally every word that comes out of your mouth before I believe you.
I am able to come up with a hundred different case scenarios of what happened before I get to the bottom of things.
The truth is that I don’t believe any word you say. That I constantly doubt your intentions and that I assume you are always lying, even when you are probably not.
Yes, the truth is that I am an overthinker. And that is not something I am proud of.
In fact, sometimes, I even think that my analyzing will make me go completely crazy.
The truth is that for a long time, I’ve used overthinking as a form of a defense mechanism.
I never knew where I stood with you nor what to expect next and I thought that I would be able to predict your next move and save myself from a lot of heartache, if I just got to the bottom of your mysterious personality.
But after all these years, I finally understand that you were never complex or mysterious—you were just an asshole. And I was crazy for letting you mistreat me and for allowing you to change me.
For a long time, I blamed myself for the way I was. I felt guilty for being an overthinker, assuming that my overanalyzing was only harming our relationship.
But then, I finally realized that my overthinking has actually never been my fault. This may be the last thing you want to hear but the truth is that I am an overthinker because you made me become one.
You know very well that I wasn’t like this when we first met. You know I was a spontaneous, open-hearted girl who believed in people.
But then you started playing with my mind and with my heart.
Then, you started confusing me to the point where I didn’t have the slightest clue of what was going on between us.
Then you started sending me mixed signals which I didn’t have any way of interpreting.
And that was when I began having sleepless nights, trying to figure out what your true intentions were.
Did you ever care about me? Or did you just enjoy having me around? What did it mean when you spent an entire week completely ignoring me and then came crawling back to me, promising me your eternal love the very next week?
All of these questions were going through my mind and I wasn’t getting the answers I needed to get from you.
That was when I began trying to read your texts between the lines so I could at least guess your true intentions. When I started carefully listening to the tone of your voice so I could hear even the things you were not telling me.
That was when I became obsessed with your social media accounts, trying to find clues of other girls in your life.
When I started questioning why you didn’t reply to my texts, when I started doubting why you were too busy to see me and when I lost all of my trust in you.
From that time on, I put all of my efforts into trying to guess your thoughts and next moves.
I put all of my efforts into decrypting the way you looked at me, texted me and called me. I put all of my efforts into unsuccessfully trying to decrypt you.
And all of this made me an overthinker. Actually, you made me an overthinker.
Because if you had been honest about your intentions from the start, I wouldn’t have been forced to analyze your every signal. I would never have been torn apart between being convinced that you loved me and thinking you couldn’t care less about me in the very next moment.
If you had been clear about your feelings, I wouldn’t have had to search for non-existent clues of your love for me.
If you had been ready to put a label on our ‘relationship’, I wouldn’t have spent endless nights trying to decode you. If you had been consistent, I wouldn’t have had to question every little detail of your personality, trying to find a reason for your behavior.
If you hadn’t been this unpredictable and if I had known what to expect from you, I wouldn’t have had to wonder if you ever cared about me at all.
If you hadn’t been disappearing from my life and coming back the way you wanted, I wouldn’t have had to try to decipher every single move you made.
If you hadn’t played mind games with me, I wouldn’t have wasted years of my life trying to figure you out.
If you hadn’t sent me all those mixed signals, I would have known exactly where I stood and I wouldn’t have had the need to overthink.
