The Art of Overthinking

Do me a favor. Read the phrase "I didn’t eat your cookies" five times. Each time, emphasize a different word. Notice how the meaning subtly shifts with each change in emphasis?

These small nuances shape our world. Details surround us—every sentence we speak, every image we see, every person we meet is composed of countless intricacies. Some may argue that "life isn’t that deep," but for me, it absolutely is. I believe there’s no such thing as an insignificant detail. A laugh can hold ten different meanings if you listen closely to its tone and intensity. The phrase "I’m okay" can be a truth or a facade, depending on the way it’s said. Our world is built on details.

None of this is new to me. So why am I writing about it now? While these thoughts have always been present, I’ve only recently started questioning where this fixation on details originates. Did it begin with the English teachers who deducted points for missing commas or the wrong font size? Was it the professor who took 10% off my test score for forgetting an absolute value sign or a simple "+C" after an integral? Or does it stem from athletics? In sports, we spend hours analyzing film, breaking down every movement. After all, the difference between winning and losing often comes down to a fraction of a second or the slightest change in angle. What separates a good basketball player from a great one might be something as minor as the precision of a wrist flick when shooting. We aren’t just taught to analyze ourselves—we’re trained to predict our opponents' next moves, to dissect the details in real-time.

Yet, despite being immersed in a world that demands "attention to detail," I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard, "Kenzie, just stop overthinking." This phrase has always baffled me. How can I be expected to focus on details yet simultaneously be told not to dwell on them? More importantly, why should I stop overthinking when it’s that very trait that propelled me to a high academic university, a D1 basketball program, and deep, meaningful relationships? These questions led me to challenge the concept of overthinking itself.

Most people would probably label themselves as overthinkers. But what if overthinking isn’t inherently bad? Society often equates it with anxiety, people-pleasing, and indecision. But what if it doesn’t have to lead to those outcomes? Hear me out. We don’t tell our hearts to stop pumping blood or our lungs to stop providing oxygen. So why do we tell our minds to stop thinking? If, for some bizarre reason, our hearts decided to be jealous of our legs and simply walked away from their job, I’d understand the concern. Maybe the real issue isn’t that we overthink—maybe it’s what we choose to overthink about.

What if, instead of overanalyzing broken relationships, failed exams, and missed shots, we fixated on the lessons learned, the small victories, and the moments that made us feel alive? I’m not posing these questions from a place of certainty—I don’t have all the answers. I’m just a college student, sitting in a library, questioning the details of life. If you’ve spent your whole life battling overthinking, maybe there isn’t a battle to be won. What if what feels like our greatest enemy right now could become our greatest tool for peace and joy?

What if, each day, we chose one positive thing to overthink? It could be the crisp morning air, the kindness of a stranger, or that perfect song that shuffled onto your playlist at just the right moment.

Peace isn’t a destination—it’s a practice. It requires intention, devotion, and the willingness to embrace the details that make up our lives. So maybe today, we can all choose to overthink something beautiful.

GOOD VIBES ONLYYYY -Kenzie