Disclaimer: There is no overthinkers club, no premium membership in said non-valid club, no cool black t-shirts, and no free pens/notepads.
I should start a club for overthinkers. It would need a motto, something snazzy. “Share your crazy with us (we’re tired of our own!)” We could give out pens and notepads. Apply for a premium package for 30 bucks a year and we will send you a cool, black t-shirt for minimum shipping!
I don’t have a club for overthinkers, nor will I start one. Although a support group might help, I have entirely too many things going on to attend a group. In the past few days, I have been told I am not a nice person. My personality is in severe need of an upgrade. My future is probably going to end by being mauled to death by a bear.
My luck would be that the icy clutches of death would not be able to shut off my mind.
On a cold, winter morn, I envision a couple out for a stroll next to my burial plot.
“Aye, sugar britches. Why is it every time we come this way, we hear that clicking sound?”
“Ah lassie, it’s the mind of the person who was mauled to death here. Poor chap can’t shut it off.”
“Nay. He’s dead two hundred years now.”
“Aye. Was overthinking when the bear mauled him. Poor sod had no time to switch him mind off.”
As this example shows, nothing good comes from overthinking. Knowing this, I still can’t break the loop. It’s like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded revolver.
Click….boom.
To boot, I have struggled greatly with fiending for a drink today. Thankfully, I have enough strength/faith to overcome it.
Maybe.
14 December 2019
