Dear You,

Dearest,

I don’t know you. I have no idea what demons you have been fighting lately. But I want to listen to what has been bothering you. Go ahead, I won’t judge I promise. 

Tell me what you’re afraid of. Tell me how you feel this morning. 

I have been there, not wanting to talk. I lay on the bed, not trying to sleep neither wishing to stay awake. Nothing someone says reaches me. It feels like they’re talking from the other side. And I just nod. I just let them know I am listening, their pauses validated by ‘hmm’ and ‘yeah’

And I have been there, wishing I was dead. What brought me out of this wasn’t well meaning support or words of wisdom. I just gradually became indifferent to the anxiety. It still exists but I think I handle it well. But I know, that is not how you’re supposed to grow out of agony.

You’re supposed to be loved.
So I don’t know who you are, but I’d be the person I needed when I was down. 

I am here. You’re not alone.

Yours.

A

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