TL;DR: When the only drama you know of is in your own head.
I am a “textbook overthinker”. There, I said it.
The kind that would freestyle on your last nerve.
It is exhausting to be me. And it is exhausting to be my confidant (I make up with arresting banter, though). If you were to peek inside my head, you'd find trapdoors everywhere, of my own making. Each door is decked with at least five Multiple Choice Questions (MCQs) at all points in time. Each MCQ provides me with three potential ‘disastrophes’.
What happens after I pick an answer?
Each choice leads to three sub-choices. The plot thickens with masochistic glee. Also, there are miniaturised nuclear warheads gate-keeping every trapdoor, waiting to blow up every five minutes and cause a mental implosion of sorts.