I'm done with "it". It makes me want to stay in bed all day, even though I'm not tired. It makes me cry until my eyes are swollen, pink and sore. It makes me angry sometimes too and usually over the insignificant reasons.

I eat a lot when it confronts me. Bags of Cheetos, pints of Rocky Road, buttery grilled cheese sandwiches, all of them make me feel better when it hurts me too much.

Sometimes I try to protect myself from it by hiding behind others. Make me laugh, make me feel warm and cozy, snuggle up and say, "I love you", and it won't be so bad anymore. It'll settle down a little but still be there.

It's always there.

But I'm ready to say goodbye to it now. That should be uncomplicated. It never is, never will be, though. When it finally leaves me, I'll wonder, "Maybe it's supposed to be here. Was it here to keep me questioning myself, keep me motivated, always reminding me who I am?"

I love it, but I hate it even more.


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