Get out. Go away.

Dear Invader,

I hate you. YOU are tearing me apart. You make me feel vile. YOU prevent me from having so many things that I want and need. You. I do not want you here.

And what really truly sucks about this? That I have to learn to live with you. You and I – we are not so easily separable. I feed you. You live off me.

What is it about my life force that is feeding you right now? Is it my fear? My desperation? My sadness? My rage? Probably all of the above, right?

How dare you. How dare you take all of this from me - my body, my freedom, my confidence, even my honesty. You are NOT welcome here and I don’t know how to make you go away. I am trying, but apparently not hard enough. And if this continues for much longer, the despair might just be too overwhelming.

This fight exhausts me. Not just the medication, but the shear emotional drain from worrying, fearing, dwelling on what might not happen… ever – you disappearing.

I am going to dig down and find a way to accept you, I will bring an enemy closer. And then I am going to find a way to kill you. Forever. Don’t get comfortable, you won’t be staying for dinner.

Your unwilling host,

Me.