Dear loop repeating in my head,

You’re wrong. Not everyone hates me and wants me out of their lives. Not everyone thinks I’m a waste of space; some people love me. They do. Not everyone is here to hurt me or abandon me. You don’t know that; you just like to make me live in fear so that I keep you alive.
I don’t even know when I met you and you first started your track. When was that, anyway? At least a couple of decades ago, now that I’m 30. That’s a long time to be bothering someone, you know. That’s longer than the entire lifespan of a dwarf apple tree. Trees have lived and died and you’ve still been here torturing me for no good reason. I’m ridding myself of you for good this time.
You came to me when I was young and weak; you preyed on an innocent child and planted your roots so deep. I wish you were like that of the apple tree and just die off on your own, but I’ve learned you’re not leaving so easily. Too bad for you, I am so much stronger now than when we first met. You’ve seen me grow, I’ve watched you tremble, worrying if you were going to lose out on me. You wear a smug grin I’d imagine because all of those times before, somehow, you had risen victorious. That’s ending now, though. I have equipped myself with the armor of knowledge that is only going to grow stronger, a thicker skin so to speak that you can’t break through.
I’m learning of your origins, why you exist, and what probably manifested you because, let’s be honest, you’re just a nobody. You don’t exist but in my head. Let that sink in. By learning where you came from and why, I get to rewrite what I thought my “destiny” was — you know what that consists of. Here’s to erasing every bad thing you ever whispered to me when I walked into a room and heard people talking, to breaking down the walls you made me build before I even knew what I was doing. I will burn down your home in my mind until you are nothing but fictional dust and ashes with nowhere left to hide.
I am already beginning to build an army of allies, people I’ve let closer to me. They’re restoring something in me that I thought was long gone between friends: trust. I feel safe in their presence and free to be me. That same girl you always told wasn’t good enough, so no one would love her. Guess what, too? They said that they loved me. I was so embarrassed that I didn’t even know how to react at first to someone saying that from a role that wasn’t expected of them. They are choosing to love me and my friendship. Scared yet? You should be.
Let’s not forget my two amazing children and how they fill me with unfathomable and endless joy. Let’s view them as my helmets, as they are vital for my survival. You know them; you like to watch our daily interactions and pop up in my head at *just* the right time to tell me how I’ve messed up myself so I’ll surely mess them up, too. Or how maybe when they grow up, they won’t love me, either. When I think with as clear a mind as possible, though, removing your words from the equation, I realize how you couldn’t be more wrong. They love me; I see it all over their eyes, in the laughs that echo from their bellies and their endless desires for snuggles. Your days spent leeching off of me are through.
You seem to think that there’s still some hope left because there isn’t a weapon present here. Yet again, you’re wrong. Knowledge, peace, acceptance, faith, and love—love being the strongest—fill the sword that will plunge you into eternal death. Just a heads up, that weapon is me. Gone with you and the wreckage you made, the home you built, and the name you gave me: worthless.
Too bad for both of us, it didn’t happen sooner, but mostly too bad for you because you never really stood a chance.

I was always too strong of a competitor for you.

Good riddance.

PWA Style Score: 82%