Letter #4

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Dear Anxiety,

It's been a while since we last met. I can't say that I missed you. I'd be lying if I told you that I'm glad to see you. I don't think I've ever hated someone as much as I hate you. Everything that you are, everything that you represent, is the reason why I feel the way I feel. I didn't ask you to come. I didn't ask for any of this. So why am I stuck with it? Sometimes I feel more like myself. Not happy. Never happy. But content, yeah. And I think I beat you. And I celebrate my small victory. But then one day, out of nowhere, you burst through like a tornado, wrecking everything in your path. Making a mess out of me. When did you get so much power? When did I relinquished all my strength to you? I used to think I was better than this. Perhaps I was wrong.



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