Dear Anxiety,

We've been together for a few years now, though it has never been the healthiest relationship. This relationship is give and take; I am always giving and you are always taking. You are just like a toddler: I can't go anywhere with you when you are acting up. Sometimes you're OK, letting me be and minding your own business. Other times, you are not so pleasant.

I still remember the first time we met. I was 14 years old and going through quite the rough patch in life. You came in and made an already bad situation ten times worse, hugging me from behind and whispering "things aren't going to get better" over and over again in my ear until I was left nauseous and shaking lying in a big puddle of tears in the corner of my room.

The next time I met you I was 16. At this point, I was a little older and thought I could handle you better than before. You came knocking and I was still naïve enough to let you back in, even after I had worked so hard to kick you out. Only this time it was different, instead of leaving as quickly as you came, you decided to stay for a while. This time you decided to bring your lovely friend, Depression. You two set up camp and immediately began ripping me apart. I didn't sleep for two weeks because, when I tried, you two would project movies onto the back of my eyelids of every bad thing that had ever happened to me. Nonetheless, I stayed in bed for those two weeks trying to come up with a way to end you. But the end of you would mean the end of me and that just wasn't an option.

I wish I could say you two left me alone after that. But that just isn't true. You both took turns tearing at me and everything I believed in. I have nothing of my own anymore, I share everything with you. My thoughts are not mine, my actions are not mine, the relationships I struggle to maintain are not even my own. You have crept into all the little parts of me I thought were too full to be affected. I never asked for you. I never wanted to be the person whose mind goes 90 miles a minute, overanalyzing every little detail of every little thing. You have taken everything I once was — fearless, outgoing, carefree — and made me into everything I never wanted to be.

I hate admitting how much you have made me hurt. Despite my best efforts to convince myself otherwise, there is so much pain in my heart and my head and sometimes I don't know what to do with it all. You serve as a constant reminder that all I am worthy of is pain. You have forced me to overanalyze every "I love you" and "I care about you" and dissolve them into nothingness. That isn't fair and I am tired of letting you get away with it.

But sometimes, you take a leave of absence.

And while you are off doing who-knows-what to whoever you chose as your next victim, I am left to pick up the pieces. I am in a constant state of catching up. Catching up on all of the classes I missed on the days where you would not let me get out of bed, catching up on all of the sleep I was deprived of, catching up on all the fun things people that don't have to worry about you do. I am also finally given the time to get to know myself again. I am one person when you come and a completely different person when you leave. I am always re-learning.

Now, I am 20 years old and I have come to realize there are upsides to this relationship I have with you. You have taught me how to be compassionate and empathetic and forgiving. You have taught me to never a judge a book by its cover and to never take anything for granted. You have taught me to cherish the good times and power through the bad. And for this, I thank you. But with that thank you comes an even bigger f**k you.

Last but certainly not least, despite your sometimes overbearing presence and your best efforts to ruin me, I have survived 100 percent of my bad days with you and that is good enough for me.

Sincerely,

The girl you love to hurt