Ever laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what happens if the sun doesn't rise or if your teeth suddenly grow out of your chin? Shel Silverstein knew that feeling. He didn't just know it; he captured the universal human experience of nighttime anxiety in his poem What If by Shel Silverstein, originally published in his 1981 masterpiece A Light in the Attic.
It's a weird poem. It’s funny, sure, but it’s also deeply uncomfortable because it mirrors exactly how the brain malfunctions the second the lights go out. We've all been there. Everything is fine at 2:00 PM, but at 2:00 AM, the "Whatifs" start crawling in through your ears.
Silverstein was a master of the "sugar-coated pill." He used whimsical drawings and bouncy rhythms to talk about things that are actually kind of dark. In this specific poem, he personifies those nagging, intrusive thoughts that plague children and adults alike. While it's shelved in the "Children’s Literature" section of the library, anyone who has ever suffered from a bout of generalized anxiety knows this isn't just a poem for kids. It's a psychological profile.
The Anatomy of the Whatifs
The poem starts with a simple premise: a speaker is trying to sleep when a troop of "Whatifs" arrives to "party and partay" inside their head.
I love that Silverstein uses the word "partay." It suggests that these thoughts aren't just visiting; they are actively having a blast at your expense. They’re mocking. They’re uninvited guests who won't leave. The poem then launches into a list of scenarios ranging from the mundane—like failing a test or being late—to the surreal, like having a bolt of lightning strike you down or finding out that "the fish won't bite."
Why the absurdity works
You might think that mixing a fear of dying with a fear of "tearing your pants" would make the poem feel disjointed. It doesn't.
That’s exactly how anxiety works. The brain doesn't prioritize "rational" fears over "silly" ones when you’re in the middle of a spiral. To a kid, "Whatif they start a war?" and "Whatif they've closed the swimming pool?" carry a similar emotional weight because both represent a loss of control. Silverstein understood that the scale of the problem matters less than the feeling of powerlessness.
He hits on some oddly specific fears:
🔗 Read more: Why Outfits With Leopard Skirt Always Feel Impossible to Get Right
- Whatif a bolt of lightning strikes me?
- Whatif I don't grow taller?
- Whatif my parents get divorced?
- Whatif the green hair grows on my chest?
That last one is classic Shel. It breaks the tension. Just as you're starting to feel the heavy weight of the "parents getting divorced" line, he throws in something gross or ridiculous. It’s a release valve. Without those silly moments, the poem would be too bleak for a bedtime story. With them, it becomes a mirror we can laugh at.
The Rhythm of a Panic Attack
Notice how the poem doesn't really have a traditional "resolution." It ends almost exactly where it began. The speaker finally gets through the night, everything seems "swell" during the day, but then the sun goes down again.
"And then the nighttime Whatifs strike again!"
This is the most honest part of the poem.
Silverstein isn't offering a "five-step plan to stop worrying." He isn't telling you to breathe deeply or practice mindfulness. He’s just acknowledging the cycle. The Whatifs are a recurring cast of characters. They are part of the architecture of the mind. Honestly, there’s something incredibly validating about that. Sometimes, when you're spiraling, you don't want a solution; you just want to know you aren't the only person whose brain thinks about green chest hair at midnight.
💡 You might also like: What Does Rice Look Like on the Plant: Why You’d Probably Walk Right Past It
Why This Poem is Actually Good for Kids (and You)
Child psychologists often point to literature as a way for children to "test drive" difficult emotions in a safe environment. What If by Shel Silverstein is basically a sandbox for anxiety.
By naming the fears and giving them a goofy name like "Whatifs," Silverstein shrinks them. He takes these terrifying, abstract feelings and turns them into little creatures that "crawl" and "dance." It’s a form of externalization. If the worry is a separate entity—a "Whatif"—then it’s not you. It’s just something happening to you.
The Expert Take on Intrusive Thoughts
Clinical psychologists often talk about "intrusive thoughts," which are unwanted, involuntary thoughts that can be distressing. Silverstein was describing this decades before "mental health awareness" was a buzzword. He captured the vibe of OCD and GAD (Generalised Anxiety Disorder) without needing the clinical terminology.
When we read this today, we see a precursor to the modern conversation about mental wellness. It’s about the "monkey mind," the part of the brain that refuses to be still. By showing that the "Whatifs" happen to everyone, Silverstein reduces the shame associated with these thoughts.
Shel Silverstein’s Unique Legacy
It’s impossible to talk about this poem without talking about Shel's style. He wasn't your typical "children’s author." He wrote for Playboy. He wrote Johnny Cash’s "A Boy Named Sue." He was a bearded, barefooted bohemian who didn't believe in happy endings just for the sake of them.
His illustrations in A Light in the Attic are sparse. They’re mostly black and white line drawings with lots of negative space. This allows the reader's imagination to fill in the gaps. In the case of this poem, the lack of a "monster" drawing for the Whatifs is brilliant. The Whatifs are invisible. They are voices. They are more terrifying because you can't see them coming.
Beyond the Page: Actionable Ways to Deal with Your Own Whatifs
Reading the poem is a great start, but if you’re actually struggling with the "nighttime Whatifs," here are some practical things that actually work, inspired by the themes in Silverstein's work:
1. The "Scheduled Worry" Technique
The speaker in the poem says everything is "swell" during the day. This suggests that the daytime mind is too busy to worry. If your Whatifs only show up at night, try giving them a "meeting time" at 4:00 PM. Sit down for 10 minutes and write down every "Whatif" you can think of. When they show up at midnight, tell them, "The meeting is over. Come back tomorrow at four." It sounds stupid. It works.
2. Externalize the Thought
Do what Shel did. Give the thought a physical form. If you’re worried about losing your job, imagine that thought as a small, annoying bird sitting on your shoulder. It’s not a "fact." It’s just a bird chirping.
3. Lean Into the Absurdity
When the brain gives you a scary Whatif, counter it with a Silverstein-style ridiculous one.
- Brain: "What if I get fired?"
- You: "What if a giant squid decides to become my roommate and only pays rent in seashells?"
By forcing your brain to engage with a ridiculous scenario, you break the neurological loop of the scary one.
4. Acceptance Over Resistance
The poem ends with the cycle continuing. Sometimes, the best way to fall asleep isn't to fight the Whatifs, but to acknowledge them. "Oh, the Whatifs are back. Cool. They're doing their little dance again." When you stop fighting for the thoughts to go away, they lose their power to keep you awake.
Shel Silverstein’s work persists because it doesn't talk down to people. He didn't treat children like they were fragile, and he didn't treat adults like they had it all figured out. What If by Shel Silverstein remains a staple of American poetry because it’s a honest report from the front lines of the human psyche.
We’re all just lying in bed, hoping the green hair doesn't grow on our chests.
To really get the most out of this poem, read it aloud. Seriously. The rhythm is designed to be spoken. You'll feel the frantic energy of the lines, the way they pile up on top of each other until you're nearly out of breath. That physical sensation of reading it is exactly what anxiety feels like. Once you finish the last line, take a deep breath. The poem is over. The "Whatifs" have had their party. Now, you can finally go to sleep.
Practical Next Steps
- Audit your bedtime routine: If you find the "Whatifs" striking every night, look at your light exposure. Shel’s "Light in the Attic" is a metaphor, but actual blue light from your phone can trigger the exact brain state that allows intrusive thoughts to thrive.
- Keep a "Whatif" Journal: Keep a notebook by your bed. If a thought won't leave, "park" it on the paper. Once it's written down, your brain feels less of a need to "loop" it to keep from forgetting the "danger."
- Re-read the full collection: Don't just stop at one poem. Revisit Where the Sidewalk Ends and Falling Up. Silverstein’s broader work provides a context of resilience and humor that makes the individual "dark" poems much easier to digest.