Life right now may prove to be trying, and your will to live is slowly dying day by day, but dearest I beg you don't drink your own poison.
You're dying to escape the shackles of your own mind, but you were born there and you can't ever leave; the thoughts you keep and all those old hurts you've buried deep, they're your poison and I pray you won't drink them tonight too.
Open your windows if you can't unlock any of your doors— light finds a way to seep right in through the dark even if just between cracks and indentations on the wood of your door or on any of your floorboards.
In case it's escaped your notice, you aren't alone in your struggle in this self waged war; we all fight our own battles too. What matters is that we fight, don't you give up, don't you give in! Fight for your will to live for another day.
Opening your eyes first thing in the morning is no small victory, and neither is getting yourself out of bed— you're braver than you know, and you're stronger than you think.
It's Friday again, and you survived this week without bursting out of your skin and breaking fully wide open.
We all get our bad days.
The next time someone tells you that "your anxiety does not exist", you can tell them "maybe you can try reasoning with mine, because I don't think they understand that they're not supposed to exist".
And then leave with a smile; it doesn't matter if it's small, what matters is that it's real.