Draft 47

You wrote it. Rewrote it. Deleted it. Rewrote it again. The message is two lines. It has taken an hour.

In this reflection we acknowledge the overthinking.

The message is three sentences. You have rewritten it forty-seven times.

You know this is absurd. You know that rationally. And yet here you are, an hour later, still editing a text message like it is a peace treaty.

The overthinking is not about the words. It is about what the words might cost. The fear that one wrong phrase could ruin something. That you are one typo away from being misunderstood, rejected, seen as too much or not enough.

The overthinking is trying to control outcomes. If I just find the right words, I can guarantee the response I want. If I just edit enough, I can eliminate risk.

But you cannot eliminate risk. Communication always involves uncertainty. The other person will read your message through their own lens, their own mood, their own history. You cannot account for all of that. Trying to will keep you trapped in draft 47 forever.

Sometimes the message does not matter as much as you think it does. The person on the other end is probably not analyzing your punctuation. They are probably just reading it and responding. The forensic scrutiny is one-sided.

At some point you have to send it. Imperfect. Uncertain. Risking misunderstanding.

That is what communication is. Two people trying to understand each other across the gap of separate minds. No amount of editing closes that gap entirely.