Letter #3

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Dear Anxiety,

Some people like to see the romance in you. How their hearts pace rapidly in their chest or how breathless you leave them with your presence. I've never been much of a romantic myself, so forgive me if I don't see the allure. When you're around, I feel like screaming at the top of my lungs, or curling into a ball and crying until I run out of tears. You make me feel weak and pathetic. I hate you. I hate how you make me feel. Why won't you just leave?



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