There was a relief in feeling the storm approaching. The pause while I was reading.

“What is this?” I’m asking, panicking.

I think back to all the overthinking, when I was convincing myself something was happening between them. When I knew he’d always end up picking someone like her, beautifully perfect, unlike me. I convinced myself I was just generally letting my mind go to places negatively. But all that thinking was generously right.

Crying, talking, begging, explaining.

“I called it” I laugh dryly, sobbing. It was unusually releasing, knowing I was right. At least now I know I’m not just wrongfully assuming. So we’ll talk it out sincerely, I’ll continue my friendship with her, but I know once again the storming I predicted will always be coming. Because it’s only overthinking if it’s wrong.