A Day in the Life of a Serial Over-Thinker
A short story
1:00 PM — Enter — The Café
I push open the door of my neighborhood café, scanning the room.
“Do I look okay?”
I wonder, knowing no one cares.
“Is my hair doing that weird thing it does? Why didn’t I wear that other top? I know I look fat in this one!! Am I giving off my period pain vibes?”
I sit down and order an iced Americano because that’s what old souls like me are supposed to order. The barista, bless her heart, gives me a cheery smile. Now she probably thinks I’m a caffeine addict.
Overthinker Rule #1: Assume everyone is judging your beverage choices. They probably aren’t, but it’s a safe assumption nonetheless.
YUCKK! I wanna throw up.
Why didn’t I get the strawberry milkshake I was craving? Oh, right. Because I’m afraid of sugar now, apparently.
I cringe as I gulp down my weird-ass coffee. And that’s how you start a day of suffering.
2:10 PM — The Cramps Strike Back
I’m doing my best impression of a composed human being, but internally, I’m clutching my stomach and screaming. Good thing I’ve mastered the art of appearing like a statue while silently dying inside.
I settle for staring blankly at my laptop screen like the people around me — who are probably typing furiously like productive, functional adults. Do people think I’m lazy because I’m not typing furiously like them?
Oh my God, did I even send that email at work yesterday? Is my boss mad? Should I check my work email right now? But it’s Saturday… Would checking my email on a Saturday make me a workaholic?
2:30 PM — Paranoid or Psychic?
I glance around the café, suspicious of everyone’s motives. Is that guy across from me glancing over because I’m holding my stomach? Oh God, what if he thinks I’m pregnant?
I should order something to eat.
Chicken Burger? Nah, too basic.
A chocolate croissant?
No way! The calories, Dona, the calories!
Instead, I ordered a salad and inwardly apologized to my stomach.
“We’re in this together,” I tell my cramps. “Now let’s eat our feelings.”
I wanted to cry!!
Overthinker Rule #2: Don’t cry in public even if you want to :))
4:00 PM — At the Restroom Stall
I head to the bathroom for a quick sanity check. As I stare at myself in the mirror, I give myself a pep talk:
“You’re fine. You look normal.”
I immediately doubt my own judgment. But do I actually look fine?
Goshhhhhh! My lipstick, I can't let people see my bare lips. Have I always looked this ugly??
I remember my laptop is still on the table. Is it safe? Did I invite a thief to steal my laptop, full of half-baked ideas and forty-seven browser tabs of nonsense?
Overthinker Rule #3: Always carry your lipstick around!
5:15 PM — Rejoining Society
Back at my table, I put on my “I’m totally fine” mask and try to appear as if I’m deeply absorbed in an article I’m not reading. What’s it about, you ask? No clue. Could be a recipe for the best chai or a twenty-step guide to raising chickens. I need to look busy, okay?
But then it hits me: why the actual fuck did I forget my earphones?!
Now I’m stuck with the sounds of clinking cups, hushed conversations, and that guy three tables over who’s explaining Bitcoin to an unfortunate date.
What am I supposed to do now? Scroll through my phone? Resort to lip-reading the barista’s conversation with a customer? Maybe I should stare at a blank document and pretend I’m in the middle of writing my bestseller.
My eyes wandered around the room, and I stared at this guy’s T-shirt across two tables. It’s bright yellow with some weird text on it. I can’t read it properly, so naturally, I decide it’s my life’s destiny to decipher it. What does it say? Is it a funny quote? A meme?
Great, now he’s looking back at me. I quickly change my gaze and pretend to be very interested in my coffee cup. Oh my God, he probably thinks I’m creeping on him.
But I wasn’t staring at him— just his shirt! I mean, who wouldn’t want to know what’s printed on a random stranger’s shirt?
Ugh. Why am I like this?
Overthinker Rule #4: Don’t forget your earphones and don’t stare at strangers.
6:15 PM — The Grand Conclusion
My cramps have finally receded. My mission here is complete. Was this trip necessary? Probably not. But did I learn something about myself? No, not really.
With a deep sigh, I gathered my things. The t-shirt guy was gone, looked back again one last time at the barista (still cheerful and completely unbothered by my very existence), I smiled widely.
Did I leave a good impression? I have no idea.
Love,
Dona
