Dear Overthinker ,

I know you’re staring at that message again.

Still unopened. Still unanswered.

The blinking cursor is waiting as it always does, steady and patient, but you still don’t know what to say.

You’ve read those words more times than you want to admit.

You go over them, line by line, looking for hidden meaning. A shift in tone. A silence that speaks louder than anything said aloud.

Your thumb hovers. Your heart picks up speed. And then you back away.

Not because you don’t care, but because you’re terrified that whatever you say might be wrong or not good enough.

Something that seems so small to someone else feels massive to you. Because you’re scared that one wrong word might be all it takes to confirm what you’ve always feared.

That you’re not enough.

Your mind never stops.

It replays conversations, builds stories out of silence, creates meaning out of thin air because you’ve learned that pain doesn’t always come with a warning.

You overthink because you’re trying to protect yourself. Because you missed something once, and it hurt more than you knew you could handle.

Now you catch everything, hoping it’ll be different this time.

Wishing you won’t face abandonment again.

If you can get ahead of the pain, maybe then you’ll finally feel safe.

But even when nothing bad happens, you still feel like something is wrong. Like you’re the thing that’s wrong.

And all this overthinking, all this fear, it lives in your body.

Your chest stays tight. Your shoulders carry what no one sees. You toss and turn at night, running through a list of things you said, wondering which one made you too much.

You delete the texts. You rehearse the goodbyes. You shrink yourself into silence to avoid being seen the wrong way.

From the outside, it doesn’t look like anything at all.

People think you’re sensitive or dramatic or just too much.

They dismiss my worries by saying “you’re overthinking,” as if that’s helpful.

But they don’t know how long you’ve lived with the fear that if you mess up, you’ll be abandoned.

They don’t know that deep down, you still believe love is something you have to earn.

This doesn’t just show up in romantic moments.

It’s there in friendships, in family dinners, in moments that are supposed to be happy but feel like something could go wrong at any second.

You smile and laugh and still wonder if you’re annoying.

You feel joy and still question if it’s allowed.

Because a part of you is always waiting for the proof that you’re not enough. That youll messed up. That youll ruined it. Again.

So you perform.

You act calm. You try to be low-maintenance. You pretend you don’t care, even when you do.

Because if you don’t show how much it hurts, maybe they won’t leave.

If you act like you’re fine, maybe you can keep them from seeing how scared you really are.

But here’s the real question you can’t stop asking:

Am I still lovable if I stop pretending I’m okay?

You want to be okay. More than anything.

But you’re tired of carrying the weight of every silence, every maybe, every almost.

You’re tired of holding your breath just to be easy to love.

You’re tired of trying to earn your place.

And I need you to know this.

You don’t have to keep living like this.

You don’t have to carry all that fear just to be worthy.

You are allowed to want reassurance.

You are allowed to need clarity.

You are allowed to take up space, even when you feel unsure.

Your needs don’t make you unlovable.

Your questions don’t make you too much.

Maybe healing isn’t about becoming perfect.

Maybe it’s about learning to pause.

To notice when your mind is spiraling and meet it with gentleness.

To remember that not every silence is rejection.

Not every change means you failed.

Not every feeling of unworthiness is true.

You are not broken for feeling this way.

You are not weak for needing comfort.

You are not hard to love.

You are someone who has had to survive in a world that didn’t always make space for your heart, and you’ve made it this far anyway. That’s not a weakness. That’s strength.

You are still worthy, even when you’re struggling to believe it.

You are still lovable, even when your thoughts try to convince you otherwise.

Keep showing up. Keep feeling, even when it’s messy.

Keep allowing yourself to be seen, even when it’s scary.

You don’t have to earn love by being easy.

You deserve it just as you are.

With the gentleness you’ve always needed,

Me