my overthinking makes me (in part). it is currently unmaking me. or rather, it’s making me into a mess, almost inconceivably more than usual. and especially more destructive, violent, pathetic. i hate that this is a possible outcome. and because my overthinking is a (large) part of me, i’m finding it hard not to hate me currently. this feels like the first time i’ve ever really lost control of this part of my becoming. and it’s fucking terrifying. since it’s the foundation for so much. i can’t get out. i feel like i can’t get out. i know i will. but right now it seems impossible. fuck. my thoughts are too fast. much too fast. too much oscillation, too quickly. every answer is part of the problem. every answer is part of the problem. every answer i come up with is part of the problem. not even because of its content. but because i come up with it while overthinking. every answer is part of the problem. this realization is making a considerable part of me unravel. but i know its limited by time. every answer i come up with right now is part of the problem. if that right now wasn’t the case i might as well give up immediately. even more than that, if the part of part of the problem wasn’t present it would really be over. but both of those things exist. and just because there’s a problem (even a potentially unsolvable and endless [for my body] one) doesn’t mean there is no value to be found. doesn’t mean that i, the body that has the problem and is unable to solve it, is worthless. i still feel like shit. but i know it’ll become different. fuck, i actually believe in myself. even after this. and that’s also because of my overthinking. the ambivalence of my current existence is barely bearable. but it is anything but devoid of value. it is reality. it is m(e). m.