There are days when I wake up already feeling like I've done something wrong.
No one's mad at me. Nothing happened. But still my chest is heavy, my stomach twists, and a quiet voice whispers, "You messed something up."
Guilt, even when there's nothing to be guilty for, is like carrying an invisible weight. No one else can see it, but it drags me down anyway.
I'll replay conversations from days ago just to make sure I didn't say something offensive or stupid.
I'll reread texts three times before sending them, then worry if I came off dry or weird.
I'll cancel plans and immediately feel bad for it, even if I was just mentally drained and needed time to breathe.
And that's the thing this guilt isn't loud.
It doesn't scream.
It just hums constantly in the background, like static I can't turn off.
Sometimes I feel guilty for being quiet. Like I'm not doing enough to keep people happy. Like my silence is a burden.
Other times, I feel guilty for trying to focus on myself. Like I don't have the right to put my needs first.
Even when someone says, "It's fine," I don't believe them.
I think that's what overthinking does.
It turns you into an emotional detective, constantly looking for clues that you're the problemeven when there's no case to solve.
There's this pressure to be perfect. Not perfect in looks or grades but emotionally perfect.
Always kind. Always understanding. Always available.
But I'm human. I get tired. I snap sometimes. I pull away.
And then I drown in guilt for just being real.
No one teaches you how to forgive yourself for the things that didn't actually happen.
They teach you how to say sorry, but not how to believe it when you say it to yourself.
So here I am, trying to figure out how to let go of guilt that doesn't belong to me.
Guilt that never had a reason to exist in the first place.
Maybe the first step isn't fixing the feeling.
Maybe it's just learning to sit with it and say:
"I hear you, but I won't let you decide who I am."