Dear Anxiety,
My intention isn’t to hurt your feelings, but you need to know: everyone hates you.
You don’t need to try as hard as a girl on Instagram with a full grid of herself wearing Reformation dresses in locations across California. We get it, you have a seductive smile because your mom paid for your teeth. You keep auditioning to be the lead in the show, but we hate you.
Do you know how much money and effort people are expending just to avoid you? We meditate to get rid of you. We walk in forests to leave you behind. We fly down mountains on boards to forget you. We talk to our therapists behind your back. We quietly swallow pills to forget you. Once we finally find a parking spot, we sit in the Trader Joe’s parking lot and deep breathe until you go away.
It’s a lot and you should be embarrassed.
Blunt, I know, but I think you need to hear this.
You don’t need to show up first thing in the morning.
You don’t need to try to make us feel uncomfortable in public.
Some people make jokes about you, but I’ve seen what you are capable of, I know how dark you can get.
Just be present without making someone physically shake, lose consciousness or cry.
Just simmer the fuck down.
And look, you do have a place in our lives. Sometimes you help protect us or help us solve our problems. This is your sweet spot. This is where you can simmer.
But even though you perform as though you’re campaigning for an Oscar, you aren’t Meryl Streep, we see your weaknesses. You aren’t as pretty. You aren’t even cute, so stop posing with your face tilted down to hide what you really look like.
No one likes you or your friends.
We see you for who you really are. You are just not welcome anywhere anymore.
Stop texting.
Know this. I will cut you every time you try to cross me.
We will laugh at you when we see you smiling in your Reformation dresses. And I will tell everyone I know about you and ask them to turn you away at the door.
Maybe I did mean to hurt your feelings.
Keep your burner low, cutie,
Kelly
A a southerner, I’m going to throw in a pointed “Bless her heart” for good measure.
That made me feel better. Thank you. My anxiety is also a mean girl.