Not Every Thought Is A Fucking Prophecy
You wake up already braced for impact
heart pounding like you missed some cosmic alarm and the world’s about to slide off its axis
Check your phone expecting death notices, fired emails
breakup paragraphs
some digital avalanche of taxes and bad praxis
All you see is spam, a coupon
one meme from a friend about raccoons and snacks
But your brain still whispers “everything’s wrong
you just haven’t found the proof yet
” better stay on high alert, no time to relax.
You send a text, watch the typing bubble appear, vanish
appear, vanish
like a lighthouse with commitment issues and a drink
By the third vanish you have already written a whole disaster script where they hate you
they are done
they are packing their shit and on the brink
Ten minutes later they reply “sorry, boss walked in
what were you saying
” with three hearts and a stupid sticker of a penguin in a hat
Meanwhile you have aged five emotional years in the time it took for them to type that.
You treat every spike of panic like a holy omen
every bad vibe like a weather alert you ignore at your own peril and cost
Your mind plays twenty-four hour tarot with every sentence people say
convinced that missing one hidden meaning means everything’s lost
Nobody told you that sometimes anxiety is just a loud radio
not a god, not a boss.
Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just white noise on an overworked line
Just because it screams in your voice does not make it law
does not make it a sign
You can let a worry pass through without building it a throne
Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just fuzz in the wiring of your spine.
You walk past two coworkers whispering near the copier
their eyes flick up, then down
then back to their own mess
Your brain instantly flashes “they are talking about you
about how you are weird
about how you are one screw-up away from jobless
” Later you find out they were planning a birthday surprise for someone else and arguing about which cake to buy
You laugh it off, say “wow I am paranoid
” but inside you still trust the fear more than the actual sky.
You grew up in a house where danger came with no warning
where moods flipped like coins in the dark
So your mind learned to read shadows, micro expressions
door slams, footsteps in the hall, every tiny spark
That skill kept you alive back then
but now it mistakes every flicker for a burning mark.
Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just white noise on an overworked line
Just because it screams in your voice does not make it law
does not make it a sign
You can let a worry pass through without building it a throne
Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just fuzz in the wiring of your spine.
Try this stupid little magic trick next time your brain declares the world is ending before lunch
Ask it for evidence with receipts, not vibes
not maybes, not that old sixth sense hunch
If all it brings you is what-ifs in trench coats and reruns of old shit that never quite lined up with the punch
Tell it “thanks for the input, sit down
we are not letting one loud thought run the whole damn bunch.”
Final Chorus Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just leftover sound from rooms you left years ago
They sound like truth because they moved in early and never learned how to go
But you get to choose which voice gets the mic
which stories get to grow
Not every thought is a fucking prophecy
some are just fear dressed up in your clothes.
Next time your mind screams “this is it
everything’s ruined, everyone hates you
every bridge is ash and bone, ” Take one breath
roll your eyes, and say out loud if you have to
“Cool story, brain
but we are not building a religion on that alone.”