You send a chill through my body. My stomach aches when you're near. Sweat gathering on my skin.

I remember the first time you attacked me. It was late. I was in my house. A place that I had always found comfort and solace. You attacked me on the couch. Out of nowhere. My heart began racing. You stole my breath.

My mind was consumed with fear. I could not think anything other than the thoughts you were placing in my mind. Irrational thoughts of fear, guilt, shame.

I ran to my bedroom. Maybe if I went to sleep I could forget.

You attacked me there too.

My body began shaking. I could not escape you. You came in uninvited and I could not make you leave.

I was lying in bed rolling around, sweating, crying, shaking, waiting for you to leave.

The next day you wouldn't let me leave my bed. You held me there.

You changed me.

People began to see how you were changing me. My mom approached me and asked "Where'd my Hailey go?"

I could not answer this question without tears falling down my eyes.

They have a name for you. Everyone calls you "anxiety". This name does not fit you. It doesn't capture the pain you inflict. It is not a true reflection of who you are and what you do.

You made me hate myself. You convinced me that I was disgusting, worthless, insane, dirty. You made me push people away.

I felt so dirty that I wouldn't let myself close to people for fear that they would see me and be disgusted.

We became friends. You whispered in my ear everyday and I would listen. I would listen to the lies you told me. You said them so many times that I started to believe they were true.

I was dirty and worthless. I deserve to be unloved and disrespected. Who could love someone like me? All I do is hurt people.

There came a point where you almost killed me. I almost let you.

Your lies had me convinced that this world would be better without me. It wasn't that i couldn't handle the pain. I couldn't handle hurting others.

You convinced me that I was a danger to everyone around me and if I was gone it would be better.

There was a small part of me that held out hope. I didn't want to die.

You consumed my mind. I sought out a voice of reason in the midst of this chaos. I went to my mother.

I told her the things you were telling me. That I needed help because choosing to live became one of the hardest tasks of the day.

You became too much weight for me to bear on my own. Your voice still taunted me every day but it became a little less with someone to lean on.

As each day passed I began to see you for who you really are. My attacker. You were not my friend. You did not add anything but worry and despair to my life. I began separating you from my identity. I am not the picture you painted me to be.

I began to grow stronger. I realized that even though you were still there and making me feel bad, nothing was wrong. I began to realize that I had a say in how I felt and how my life went.

I began to choose to get out of bed in the morning. I began to choose to sing even when I felt like I had no song left. I began to hang out with people even when I felt like laying in bed.

Once I made these choices, I started to feel better. I started to feel like I had control of my life again.

This letter is for you, my attacker.

I barely feel you anymore. Sometimes I can feel when you're around but you don't have a hold on me anymore.

This letter is goodbye. I am writing to tell you that you can't control me.

This is my happiness. This is my life. This is my freedom.

Goodbye.