The Diary of An Overthinker

Zola Mali sat cross-legged on her bed, surrounded by a sea of colorful sticky notes, each bearing fragments of her thoughts. Her room was a cozy sanctuary painted in calming shades of lavender and adorned with fairy lights that cast a soft glow. The air was filled with the faint scent of vanilla from her favorite candle. Zola, a petite young woman with deep brown eyes and short, curly hair, scribbled furiously in her leather-bound diary, her most trusted confidante.

"January 20th," she wrote, "Today, I saved Nathi from another disaster."

Nathi, her younger brother, was an adventurous ten-year-old with a mop of curly hair and an infectious grin. Earlier that day, he had attempted to climb the towering mango tree in their backyard. Zola's overthinking had kicked in, and she imagined every possible scenario that could go wrong...broken bones, concussions, emergency room visits, their mother's wrath. Her hyper-awareness had led her to intervene just in time, preventing what could have been a spectacularly painful fall.

Flashback to Earlier That Day

Nathi had been eyeing the mango tree for weeks. It was his Everest, his Mount Kilimanjaro, his "I bet I can do it even though Zola will freak out" challenge. He had already scaled halfway up, his small fingers gripping the rough bark, his bare feet finding precarious holds.

Zola, who had been watching from the kitchen window while pretending to do the dishes, dropped the sponge mid-scrub.

"NATHI MALI, GET DOWN FROM THERE RIGHT NOW!" she shrieked, bolting outside like a woman possessed.

Nathi, unfazed, grinned down at her. "Relax, Zola. I'm not even that high up."

"Not that high up?!" Zola's voice cracked. "You're practically touching the clouds! One wrong move and you'll be eating through a straw for six months!"

Nathi rolled his eyes. "Dramatic much? Mom lets me climb stuff all the time."

"Mom lets you climb stairs, Nathi. There's a difference!"

Just as Zola was about to launch into her "Do you have a death wish?" speech, Nathi's foot slipped.

Time slowed.

Zola's heart shot into her throat. Her arms shot out instinctively, as if she could somehow catch him from five feet away. Nathi wobbled, flailed, and...

"AAAAAH....."

.......caught himself at the last second, dangling by one hand like a very uncoordinated monkey.

Zola's soul left her body.

"I'M TELLING MOM!" she screeched, already running toward him.

Nathi, still swinging slightly, had the audacity to laugh. "I'm fine! See? Perfectly"

THUD.

He landed in the grass, flat on his back, blinking up at the sky like he wasn't sure how he got there.

Zola's brain short-circuited. "OH MY GOD, YOU'RE DEAD. YOU'RE ACTUALLY DEAD. MOM'S GOING TO KILL ME FOR LETTING YOU DIE."

Nathi sat up, rubbing his elbow. "Chill, Zola. I'm alive. Grass is soft."

"SOFT?! YOU COULD'VE....."

"WHAT IS GOING ON OUT HERE?!"

Their mother's voice cut through the chaos like a whip. Mama Mali stood on the back porch, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. She had that look, the "I was enjoying my tea in peace, and now I have to parent" look.

Zola pointed at Nathi, who was now casually picking grass out of his hair. "HE FELL OUT OF THE TREE!"

Mama Mali's eyebrows shot up. "Nathi. Were you climbing the mango tree again after I told you not to?"

Nathi, the master of innocent expressions, blinked. "I was exploring it."

"Exploring it with your face?" Mama deadpanned.

Zola, still vibrating with adrenaline, clutched her chest. "Mom, he could've died. Like, actually died. Do you know how many kids get paralyzed from falling out of trees? Do you know how expensive hospital bills are?!"

Mama sighed, rubbing her temples. "Zola, breathe. Nathi, stop trying to give your sister a heart attack. Both of you, inside. Now."

Nathi scrambled up, completely unharmed, and shot Zola a smirk. "Told you I was fine."

Zola glared. "Next time, I'm letting gravity teach you the lesson."

Later That Evening

Back in her room, Zola exhaled deeply and opened her diary again.

Diary Entry: January 20th (Evening)

Dear Diary,

Today was another day where my overthinking seemed to be both a blessing and a curse. Nathi, my adventurous little brother, decided that climbing the mango tree was a good idea. Naturally, my mind went into overdrive....broken arms, head injuries, funerals where they play that one sad song he hates. I couldn't help but intervene, and luckily, I did so just in time. (Though he still fell. And laughed about it. The audacity.)

Luckily, he was fine. Grass is soft, apparently. But Mom heard the commotion and came outside with that "I swear, these children will be the death of me" look on her face. She didn't even yell, just sighed and said, "Nathi, were you climbing the mango tree again?" Like she was already tired of this conversation before it even started.

Sometimes I forget how much Mom has dealt with raising us alone while Dad's been away for work. He's always traveling, sending money, calling when he can but mom's the one who's actually here. She's the one who stayed up with me when I had nightmares as a kid, who bandaged Nathi's scraped knees, who somehow managed to work, cook, clean, and still make sure we felt loved.

I see it now, more than ever. The way her shoulders sag a little when she thinks we're not looking. The gray hairs she tries to hide. The way she rubs her temples when Nathi and I argue, like she's counting to ten in her head. She's only in her forties, but raising two chaotic kids (one of whom is me, an overthinker who stresses about everything, and the other a tiny human tornado like Nathi) has aged her.

And yet, she never complains. She just keeps going.

Today, after the tree incident, she made Nathi promise not to climb it again (he will), then kissed his forehead like she wasn't secretly relieved he wasn't hurt. She didn't scold me for panicking, even though I know she thinks I overreact sometimes. She just hugged me and said, "You're a good sister, Zola. But let him be a kid, okay?"

I don't know how she does it. How she stays so patient, so strong. I wish I could take some of the weight off her shoulders. Maybe I'll start by not freaking out every time Nathi does something stupid. (Okay, maybe some freaking out is necessary. The kid has no sense of self-preservation.)

*I can't help but wonder, though, if my constant worrying is doing more harm than good. Nathi looked so disappointed when I told him to get down. I don't want to be the overbearing sister who ruins his fun, but I also can't ignore the nagging voice in my head that screams, "HE'S GOING TO DIE AND IT'LL BE YOUR FAULT."

Sigh. Maybe tomorrow I'll just let him climb the tree. (Just kidding. I'll never sleep again if I do that.)

Yours always,

Zola

She closed the diary and flopped back onto her bed, staring at the ceiling. From downstairs, she could hear Nathi begging their mom for "just five more minutes" of TV time.

Some things never changed. And honestly, She wouldn't have it any other way.