I hope you know that the chair stayed by the window for months after you stopped coming around. It was like a safety net. I was afraid if I put it away you would come back meaner than before.
I only felt confident enough to take the light out of my room a few months ago. I was afraid you would come back.
I can still feel the sobs racking by chest, and the strange thoughts filling my head as you came back. Each night you were bigger, stronger, scarier. You knew just where to find me. Pulling on my toes to wake me up. Or maybe tickling my subconscious so I was awake enough to hear the small tap outside, or the creak of the floorboard as the cat made her presence known.
You liked the attention didn't you? I think you liked to hear my screams as I begged for my parents to save me. It was all the same. Night after night you came, you played, and you left me to succumb to the deepest, darkest corners of my imagination.
The doctors said they hardly ever saw it as bad as I had it. You probably knew that. You chose me didn't you?
You still come by. I know you do. You bring your friend with you as you walk hand-in-hand through my front door. Anxiety and Depression.
YOU ARE READING
Letters To No One
Non-FictionA collection of letters I've written that will never be claimed and never leave the safety of my journal.
