The Overthinker

- a.o

[overthinkers]

I’m too old to believe love to be flawless, but still too young to be disillusioned with love yet.

[overthinkers]

I find endings profoundly heartbreaking by nature.

[overthinkers]

There is not one way to define love. We love so many people, in so many different ways throughout our lives, one definition wouldn’t be able to cover them all.

[overthinkers]

There is something frozen in the most peaceful sense about train rides.

[overthinkers]

I’ve spent my whole life yearning for someone to love me completely, truly, genuinely, and yet I’ve never let anyone close enough to learn all the parts that makes me me. Truth is, I think I’m a coward. I want to be loved, really, but I don’t think I would be strong enough to have someone tell me I’m not worth that love a few inches from my face. It’s just easier to not give anyone the chance to reject me.

[overthinkers]

I don’t need grand gestures, or “I love you” in front of both our families, or a white dress, or my parents’ blessing. 

I need vows that nobody but me will ever hear whispered in between desperate kisses. Eating a wedding cake at 2am in our kitchen. Dressing up just to dance in our living room. Getting drunk on cheap whiskey on a beach and talking about the lives we use to dream of when we were 10 and stupid.

[overthinkers]

We kiss on a deserted beach with nothing but the moonlight to make out the shape of your face and sand between my fingers as I hold on to anything tangible to stop my head from spinning, and that’s the closest I ever felt to something godly.

[overthinkers]

Look how far you’ve come. 

Isn’t it beautiful?

How we keep pushing,

One step after another,

Because we know death is coming

But we’re not ready for her yet.

That’s the mortal part of us.

Look at everything in front of you still.

Isn’t it beautiful?

How we have a lifetime

To love and learn and try and fail and try again.

We may not witness forever

But yet we strive for it, for our own finite forever.

That’s the divine part of us.

–  We’re mortal and divine in equal parts; that’s the beauty of it all

a.o

[overthinkers]

I don’t believe in soulmates or destiny or the grand scheme of things or fate. But I believe in choices. I believe in choosing them over and over and over again, at every turn, at every crossroad. I believe in finding a reason or making one on the days where we don’t seem to make any sense.   I don’t believe there is someone out there made for me because something in the stars decided it. But I do believe in soulmates, as created by us, as made up of every day we chose to stay, of every fight we worked through, of every time the choice we made was each other. 

– a.o

[overthinkers]

I’m collecting discarded dreams like stamps. 

– a.o

[overthinkers]

Isn’t it beautiful, to be loved by a writer ?

With each stroke of their pen which they dipped into your soul before making the paper bleed, they immortalize parts of your essence, parts of you that may have existed for them only, but some part of you nonetheless.

Isn’t it beautiful, to be loved by a writer ?

The part of you that touched their heart will live on forever between the pages of a book on a shelf, on a crumpled up piece of paper, in between black and white letters on a computer.

There’s something timeless, eternal, about a writer’s love, isn’t it ?

– a.o

[overthinkers]

I don’t think love is about superlatives. I’m not asking you to be the better choice, to be in competition with potential others to see who makes me feel better. I’m asking you to be good, to make me feel good. That’s it.  

[overthinkers]

I’m staring 

At the sea below me 

And the sky above me 

And everything in between.

The good 

The bad 

The tears

The laughs 

The hurt 

And the love.

I’m staring 

At everything beautiful still

And I’m thinking

That every snow-covered step I took

Led me here.  

— a.o

[overthinkers]

She wasn’t born cold.

She actually was the kid

With the brightest smile 

I’ve ever seen.

She used to be so kind 

And soft.

Then, they happened.

They broke her heart 

Until she thought it stopped beating.

They made her bleed 

Again

And again 

And again 

For the hell of it.

She wasn’t born that cold 

But they did not deserve her warmth anyway.

— a.o 

[overthinkers]

The short version

Of me 

Is that I’m a haunted house in ruins.

The long version,

The one you get to

When you get through 

My walls,

Is that these breeches

Allow the outside light 

In

And

Let my inner light 

Brighten other ruins. 

– a.o

[overthinkers]

[overthinkers]