Dearest friend,
You came to me early in life. You came at a time when I was young, too young to understand, too young to figure out who you were, or what you wanted. I was barely a teenager, and I was lonely, experiencing both cliche teenage experiences and experiences that no teenager should ever have to deal with. I needed a friend, a companion, someone to hold me when I cried.
You numbed the pain. You sat with me while I lay in my darkened room, cocooned in blankets, tears streaming down my face. You fed off of my sorrows. I had no idea that my hurt made you stronger. I pushed my friends away to be with you. You always had to come first, and took up all of my time. I found myself completely wrapped up in you. My sleeping habits, diet, and whole personality changed. I became a shell, a ghost of my former self. You had completely broken me down until no one could get through you, to get to me. You were my prison guard. I didn't even realize I was screaming for help. It felt like it was too late.
You took control. I was your (un)willing servant, possessed by the terrible thoughts you put in my head. You told me I wasn't good enough. You told me that no one cared. You told me that the world would be better off without me. Every day, you pushed these thoughts in my head, and I grew so used to them, I began to believe they were true. The thoughts never disappeared, they just followed me around like a desperate puppy, never giving in.
People told me to get rid of you. They said it would be easy to walk away. They didn't realize: wherever I went, you followed. You wouldn't give in. Every time I tried to fight you, you attached yourself to me further, until we were one entity; I couldn't tell the difference between us. You couldn't live without me, and I wasn't living at all. I was alone with only you in my life.
I hit rock bottom. I found myself in a deep, dark abyss that seemed to have no escape. But then, somehow, I found the courage to do what I had never done before: I screamed from my prison, desperate for help. Perhaps, in reality, my screaming was more like an almost-silent whisper to a friend that, maybe, I was sad a little too often. But, on the inside, it took everything I had, and every ounce of energy to do even that.
I realized that you are a monster. Your hold on me was something so strong, it could not be fought by ignoring it, or walking away, or pretending the thoughts you forced me to think did not exist. It could only be fought by asking for help.
You do not own me anymore. You will not make me feel worthless, or ugly, or like a failure. You no longer have my permission to be in my life, and I will fight with every ounce of my being to make sure that you never again push those terrible thoughts into my head. I have replaced you with real people who care about me, and who push me to care about myself just as much. I will do my damnedest to feel nothing but pride about myself and all I have accomplished, because not only have I achieved a lot in my life, I fought you off, and won.
Sincerely,
Stephanie
