It starts with a bassline that feels like a headache you can't quite shake. Then comes that voice—shaky, high-pitched, and brutally honest. Honestly, if you were anywhere near TikTok or alternative radio in 2020, you didn't just hear Royal and the Serpent's Overwhelmed; you lived it. It was the unofficial anthem for a world that had suddenly, and quite violently, stopped making sense.
Ryan Santiago, the creative force behind the moniker Royal and the Serpent, didn't set out to write a viral hit. She wrote a diary entry. She wrote about the feeling of the walls closing in. The song captures that specific, itchy brand of sensory overload where every sound is too loud and every light is too bright.
People connected. Deeply.
The Anatomy of a Panic Attack in 2.5 Minutes
Music usually tries to make you feel good. Or it tries to make you feel a very specific, curated kind of sad. Royal and the Serpent did something different with Overwhelmed. It leaned into the physical discomfort of anxiety.
The song doesn't just talk about being stressed. It mimics the physiological response of an overstimulated nervous system. The verses are tight and claustrophobic. The chorus explodes. It’s messy. It’s loud. It’s exactly how a panic attack feels when you’re standing in the middle of a grocery store and suddenly realize you can’t breathe.
I’ve spent a lot of time looking at why certain songs "break" the algorithm. Usually, it’s a catchy hook or a dance trend. But with this track, it was the raw, unpolished transparency. Santiago has been open in interviews, including conversations with V Magazine and Billboard, about her own struggles with anxiety and sensory processing issues. She wasn't guessing what it felt like. She was reporting from the front lines of her own brain.
Why the "Serpent" Matters
The name "Royal and the Serpent" isn't just a cool-sounding indie brand. It’s a dualistic philosophy. Ryan explains that "Royal" represents the controlled, polished, "good" side of her personality. The "Serpent" is the shadow self—the chaotic, anxious, and darker impulses that we all try to hide.
Overwhelmed is a Serpent song.
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It’s the side of us that wants to scream "Everyone shut up!" when the world gets to be too much. By naming both sides, Santiago gave her audience permission to embrace their own inner messiness. We spend so much energy trying to look "Royal" that we forget the "Serpent" needs a voice too.
The TikTok Effect and the Visual Language of Anxiety
Let’s be real: TikTok turned this song into a juggernaut. But it wasn't just another dance challenge. The "Overwhelmed" trend involved users showing what triggered their sensory issues.
It was fascinating.
Some people posted videos of flickering lights. Others shared the overwhelming noise of a crowded hallway. It became a piece of shared digital shorthand. You didn't have to explain your diagnosis; you just played the song. The "I get overwhelmed so easily" line became a mantra for Gen Z and Millennials who were navigating a global pandemic while glued to their phones.
The music video, directed by Conner Evert, doubled down on this. It used dizzying camera angles and rapid-fire editing to visually recreate the feeling of losing control. It wasn't "pretty" music. It was visceral.
The Science of Why We Listen to "Stressful" Music
You’d think that if you’re feeling anxious, you’d want to listen to Enya or some lo-fi beats to study to. But psychology suggests otherwise.
There’s a concept called "mood-congruent processing." Basically, when we’re overwhelmed, we seek out stimuli that match our internal state. It’s validating. When Royal and the Serpent sings about her skin crawling, someone sitting in their bedroom feeling the exact same way feels a little less insane.
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- It provides a sense of community.
- It externalizes the internal struggle.
- It acts as a cathartic release.
The song’s structure actually uses a technique often seen in "noise pop" or "electro-punk" where the tension builds to an almost unbearable point before the beat drops. That drop provides a physical release of dopamine. It’s a literal "exhale" in musical form.
Beyond the Viral Hit: What Happened Next?
One-hit wonders are common in the streaming era, but Ryan Santiago used the momentum of Overwhelmed to build a genuine world. She followed up with projects like searching for bobby fisher and IF I DIED WOULD ANYONE CARE.
She didn't pivot to sunshine and rainbows.
She stayed in the trenches. Her later work explores the complexities of relationships, self-destruction, and the exhausting cycle of mental health recovery. While Overwhelmed remains her most famous work—crossing hundreds of millions of streams on Spotify—it served as a gateway to a much larger conversation about modern neuroticism.
The Remixes and Re-imaginings
The song had a second life through various remixes, most notably the version featuring Marky Style. These iterations pushed the song into the "alt-pop" and "hyperpop" spaces, proving that the core message was genre-agnostic. Whether it was a stripped-back acoustic version or a distorted electronic mess, the sentiment remained: the world is too much, and I am not okay.
Common Misconceptions About the Song
A lot of people think the song is specifically about COVID-19 because of when it peaked. That’s actually not true. Santiago wrote it before the world shut down. The fact that it gained traction during a time of global isolation was a coincidence—or perhaps a grimly perfect timing.
Others argue the song "glamorizes" anxiety. If you actually listen to the lyrics, though, there’s nothing glamorous about it. It sounds like a plea for help. It’s not a "cool" aesthetic; it’s a survival tactic.
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Actionable Takeaways for the Overwhelmed
If you find yourself hitting repeat on this track because you relate to it a little too much, you aren't alone. Music is a tool, but it's only one part of the kit.
Audit your inputs.
If the song resonates because you genuinely feel sensory overload, look at your environment. Are you "doomscrolling" while listening to loud music? Your brain can only process so much. Try a "low-dopamine morning" where you avoid screens for the first hour of the day.
Practice the 5-4-3-2-1 technique.
When the song’s lyrics start to feel like your reality, ground yourself. Name five things you see, four you can touch, three you hear, two you smell, and one you can taste. It forces your brain to shift from the "Serpent" back to the present moment.
Acknowledge the "Royal" and the "Serpent."
Stop trying to kill off the anxious part of yourself. It doesn't work. Instead, acknowledge it. "Hey, I’m feeling the Serpent side today. I’m overwhelmed. I need a break." Giving it a name takes away some of its power.
Use music as a timer, not a loop.
Sometimes we get stuck in "sad loops" where we listen to triggering music for hours. Use Overwhelmed as a cathartic three-minute vent, then switch to something with a different frequency to help your nervous system reset.
The legacy of Royal and the Serpent's Overwhelmed isn't just its chart position. It’s the fact that it made millions of people feel seen during a time when we were all invisible behind our screens. It’s a reminder that the most personal "diary entry" songs are often the most universal.
If you're feeling too much today, that's fine. Just remember to breathe between the beats.