Nothing of consequence ever comes out of this kind of thinking, or overthinking, to be precise. It only justifies my shortcomings and insecurities. It only makes me anxious.
I stare blankly at the computer screen, seemingly fixated on reading, thoughts focused on something else. I scroll up and down until I lose interest in what I’m doing. Sometimes I really don’t want to think. In late night trips to work, I’d rather shut my eyes and let my consciousness wander elsewhere. I don’t want to think of the future. I don’t want to think of the past. I am content with what’s in the present—isn’t it the most important thing?
I don’t want to think, I don’t want to think anymore.