Letter #6

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Dear Anxiety,

Here we go again. Odd fluttering in my heart, hands trembling at your sight. One brush of contact with you and all that's left of me is useless skin and bones. Once again, I am nothing. That's how you love me most, huh? When I succumb to how you make me feel and crumble under your touch. I am nothing. I am being crushed under your weight. I am weak. And once again, I am nothing. It's a vicious circle and I can't pull myself free. I fear that you'll always hold this control over me. I fear that I'll always be nothing. 

Sincerely,

Liz

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