Dear Anxiety,

I'm sorry I slander you in everything I say and write and think. You've always been there for me, and I think you deserve better. I mean, really, you're just an extension of me, and I can't blame you for what you say to me. Yeah, they're awful things, but if they're true, I guess it must come from a place of love and kindness.

I'm sorry people doubt your existence. That must be hard. And when they claim you're just in my head, well, I don't think that's true either. You're only in my head some of the time. Sometimes, you get lost in the labyrinth of my memories, and you don't visit me for a while. Then, you bring some back with you, so I guess that makes it better.

I'm sorry that I like it better when you're not around. I'm sorry that I wish you would get lost in the maze and never come back. I'm sorry that every time I talk about you, it's just to disregard and disown you. I'm sorry that I don't let you control more of what I do and say and think. Maybe you're right when you say my life would be better if you had complete control.

Please come back. You're right, and I need you. I need you to tell me what to wear and what people will say about me when I wear it. I'd miss your nagging voice explaining every detail of everything I did that was wrong. And it's all wrong because I did it by myself. That's why I need you.