What Happens After You?

I overthink you .

Here we go again. With me and overthinking, and the idea that nothing you say is true. I can't help it most of the time. I was always taught that actions mean more than words. Which is funny, because I'm a writer. Writing is my power. It's what I do when I don't know how to fix something. But that's all it is, words. Just like that's all that you say. Granted, you haven't promised me anything. So I don't know what it is that I'm expecting. Maybe I just don't understand how you can have feelings and just let them sit there. I can't. Maybe that's my problem. I can't just leave things well enough alone. Maybe that's why everything is always such a mess. Because I can't just not do anything. It'll eat at me until it drives me insane. It's like having feelings for someone, and not being able to tell them. Except my feelings aren't always for them. They're just feelings. And I just have to get them out.
I never tell people why I feel the way that I do. I guess that's partly my way of bottling things up. Most of the time, I don't even tell people that I'm feeling a certain way. I just feel it. It just sucks, I just suffer on my own. And it's not because I'm afraid to tell them. Well, sometimes I am. But it's because the way that I feel effects them, and I don't want it to. I don't want to hurt other people because I'm hurting. But it always ends up that way. Whether I bottle it up or not. Because when you bottle it up, you explode. And most of the time, that's so much worse than just talking about it in the first place. But that's why I write. That way, I don't have to tell anyone, and I'm not bottling it up. Sometimes. Sometimes writing doesn't help, and I have to tell them about it. I have to do something with what I've written, or else it's just sitting there in a notebook, or in the drive on my computer, and it's still eating.
So I pick a few people, or one, and I slowly start uncovering parts of myself I don't let anyone into. There are a lot of things you still don't know about me. LIke how much I write. Or that writing is my way of communicating, because I genuinely hate talking about my feelings. Everything I don't tell you, goes here.
We keep talking about our feelings as if it's the end of the world. While we talk everyday, and have been for about a month, I doubt that what we know about each other is really all that much. I wouldn't say you barely know me. You know my mood swings, and how I am when I'm vulnerable. Which is important. We're friends. But we talk of feelings that are more than that. We talk about overthinking things, which is what I do with you. I overthink you. I overthink what I feel about you. And I overthink what to do. Because I can't just sit there.