In Which My Sister Understands That My Anxiety Is Real – A Conversation


“It’s hard for me to talk to you about this stuff without getting overly emotional.

This past year was hard for me. Making new friends can be really hard for me because of my anxiety that seems to control my life most of the time. I’m lucky that I made the friends I did because they’re caring, wonderful people. They make me more confident and actually have days where I love myself. I know at the beginning of my first semester, we would talk all the time or at least we tried to but this became increasingly hard for me because I’m really shitty at keeping in touch with people and for the first time in my life I felt like I couldn’t share huge parts of my life with you because when I did try, you seemed to overreact and I don’t know, it just made me feel bad about a lot of my life.

I am extremely insecure, as you know, and a lot of that is because I hate my body. I can’t help it. I really really wish I didn’t feel the way I do. I know you don’t like that I’m insecure but I don’t know how to not be. I hate my body. I hate who I am. I hate that my passions aren’t practical. I hate that I feel this way.

Anxiety and insecurity rule my life and I’m trying so damn hard to work on it. And it sucks because a lot of the time I feel like you don’t see that I’m trying. I’m trying to love myself. I’m trying to do things that scare me. I’m trying so hard and sometimes I feel like it’d be easier if I just wasn’t around. Not like dead or anything. I just want to not exist for a while and then be able to come back.


I love you and I know you never mean to hurt my feelings and a lot of the time you don’t. So yea… I hope none of this makes you mad at me, but if it does I’m sorry, but this is how I feel.”


“I’m not mad. I understand and will help you through this. It’s not your fault you feel this way. I love you.”




In Which I Am Never Told To Smile


I walk down the street, my face blank unlike my mind, just trying to get from point a to point b. Men see me and continue on with their day. They are not troubled by my unwelcoming face. They are aware that my face is none of their business. I make it to point b without a scowl.


I am sitting alone at lunch, my friends are running late like always. I am at peace in these few moments of alone time. I am not told to be someone I’m not from someone I’ve never met before. I laugh as my friends rush in to greet me, apologizing profusely for their tardiness.


I am reading at a local cafe. I finish the book in one sitting without interruption.


I actually smile because no one is telling me to.




In Which I’m Getting Coffee With My Depression – A Conversation


“This is uncomfortable”

“You’re only saying that because I hate you.”

“It’s uncomfortable because I’m not something you should talk about, besides you don’t hate me. I’m the reason you get so much sleep.”

“I do hate you. You convinced me that I should be ashamed of you. You convinced me that I didn’t need help, that all that sleep was part of college, that I was okay. I wasn’t okay.”

“You were fine. I was around long before college. You’ve always had me. Think about it, I’m your oldest friend.”

“You’re not my friend! I don’t know when you started existing, but I’m doing everything I can to make you disappear.”

“I’ll never disappear. I’m forever. You need me. Who are you without me?”

“I’m me! With you, I’m the shell of who I was. You killed all the good in me, but I’m finding what I lost and making you leave. I don’t want to be asleep anymore. I want to be me, without you.”