We think too much, or don’t give a thought at all. We feel too much, or we don’t want to feel anything at all. Yet, is it wrong to overthink or overfeel?
Since when have we traded thoughtful introspection for thoughtless self-gratification? Since when did we start rejecting sincere empathy for half-hearted sympathy? We scoff and persecute ideals that goes against our selfish pursuits of happiness, yet merely cast a curious glance to those whose dying joys gasp for a chance to somehow break free from these shackles that reality and practicality has imposed on our dreams: citizens of the night that cry out and sing to us in our sleep, reminding us that there is more to life than this shallow existence, this death march of the uninspired— crushed aspirations even before they’ve seen their own reflections through our passions.
Have we guarded our hearts too much, that we refused to let other people feel that love we have— more afraid that they’ll break these fragile walls rather than help us fortify them to withstand the storms of hate and apathy? Have we guarded our minds too much, that we’ve become prisoners of our own thoughts, too scared to learn, too scared to grow, too scared to imagine and create and enjoy those boundless possibilities that God has placed in us to fulfill?
Or have we never guarded our hearts and minds at all, that we’re nothing more than informal settlers of our own land, nothing more than slaves to our own body’s needs?
I used to be afraid of overthinking. I used to be scared of overfeeling. But then, it’s not about how much we think or feel, but on what we focus our minds and hearts on— and will, God willing, that our hands would be strong enough to force open the gates holding back what we dream for into becoming what others will dream about, too.