I daydream. I dream of how life should be. I also think too much. At times, it seems I may have reached the end of my thinking capacity. I think about conversations and incidents that could have happened but never happened. I dream up scenarios that have a tendency to make me happy. I dream of a world in which everything is perfect. I resonate with my desires. If there were no limitations, there would be no stopping me.

“Don’t you ever wish life had turned out differently for you?” I look up at the curious face. “Different how?” I ask. Even though I know the question was explained in its entirety, I play dumb. “Not really.” I address my own question. “It would be wishful thinking, and is there a point?”

If I could turn back time, would I do things differently? I’m the same person, life altered me, experiences morphed me, people scarred me, and amidst all that, I overthought continuously. We forget that life was given to us to live, experience, and appreciate. This process makes us who we are. My overthinking kept me out of trouble because I thought of every possible scenario. That is also how I have no regrets. I sat with my thoughts and conjured up scenarios; I would have an answer for every situation. We overthink the worst. My thoughts became an escape where I maneuvered into scenarios like a movie with different endings. I could sit with my thoughts for hours and never get bored.

Curiosity awaits me to continue. “I have no regrets. I’ve reached a stage of my life where I know I don’t want to risk my peace.” Another question is asked, “Yes, but don’t you dream of a different life?” I sit back to assess my answer. “We all dream, but everything works out the way it was supposed to.”

I envied people who took risks and did the unthinkable in their youth. The ones who lived it up. I was different; I rarely rocked the boat. I watched in awe as my siblings got into trouble and were punished. I played by the rules, always. I’m not sure if I just wanted to please or if I wanted to be liked. I kept things in order, and my life was straightforward. Now, while my peers are playing it safe, I’m the one who is taking the risks and living it up. Ironic, isn’t it? While everyone is abiding by the book, I am tearing out the pages.

I think about what would make me happier, but rarely about how I could have done things differently. At some point, we all sit with our thoughts and contemplate. I look up again as if we had been discussing all the bad that happened in my life. At one point, my overthinking did instill fear in me. “It wasn’t all bad, but I made it worse for myself by overthinking.” I take a deep sigh. I’m able to admit my flaw now.

It would be wishful thinking to want my life to have turned out differently. I made my life different. I am the one being envied now, and to think I overthought the process of taking that risk, too. Over-thinkers like me also over-love and over-feel. I like to think they’re old habits, but it’s just a part of who I am. I often re-read a quote I came across to remind myself that something good can come out of my overthinking.

‘If you can overthink the worst, then you can also overthink the best.’

I read this to reinforce a more positive outcome, because what good is an affirmation if we only read it and overthink it, instead of practicing it?