You’ve been lurking around here for a while now
Taunting me.
Haunting me.
Creeping around every corner, waiting patiently in the shadows, camping out in the attic,
Gripping my throat with your ice cold claws when I’m at my lowest.
You step onto the scene and
Dread locks in.
The sweat glands in my trembling hands kick into overdrive. The rapid beating of my heart leaves me breathless.
You know you have won when I isolate;
Turn out the lights.
Close the curtains.
Lock my doors.

But I’m done.
I’m done opening my door for you.
Done pushing everyone away just because you told me to.
I’m done letting you own me and degrade me, telling me I’ll never measure up, telling me I’m alone in this world, highlighting my insecurities.
I’m ready to fight back
Stand up tall, shoulders square,
Jaw set in defiance.

You’ve been lurking around here for a while now
But I see you
And I’m turning on the lights
Because you can’t control me anymore.

This is my house
My family
My planet
And you don’t belong here anymore.

There is no room for you in my victory.

Death,
I got a text from my dad today. A photo from the back of an ambulance, captioned, “Just busted my face in the driveway”. Three days in the spring semester of my first year of college, here I am, researching the soonest train that would take me the 300 miles back home. Sure, my mom told me I don’t need to come home, that everything will be alright. Sure, I have classes that I shouldn’t miss. Sure, he’s going to be fine—but what if he’s not?
At the ripe age of seven, my best friend was my aunt. That is, until you took her from me. When I found her, lying still in bed, asking me to call 9-1-1. I was seven when I saw my best friend for the last time, carried away on a gurney.
Mortality is something every one of us has to face. There’s a reason people say, “The only guarantee in life is death and taxes.” But, for a seven-year-old, death shouldn’t have been on my mind. I should have been wondering which friends to invite to my sleepover or what doll I wanted for Christmas. Instead, I was facing great existential crises, wondering, If my aunt could die, does that mean my mom will die? Does this mean everybody I love is going to die? What’s going to happen when someone else dies? What’s going to happen when I die? Oh my God, I’m going to die. Now, twelve years have passed, and you still consume many of my waking (and sleeping) thoughts.
I didn’t see my beloved aunt before she died. Years later, I learned that she died at home in hospice care, not an uncomfortable hospital bed. See, that’s what happens when you are seven years old and experiencing such a tragedy—the adults don’t let you in on the details. They all wanted to protect me from the darkness in the world, but it was no use. I had already seen firsthand the darkest force of them all: you.
So. My dad hit his head, is going to the hospital, and I’m galaxies away. I feel like I’m seven years old all over again, so helpless to the world’s random whims. The homework due at 11:59 PM tonight now feels daunting, and I can’t focus as the worst-case-scenario thoughts raced around my head. Closing my textbook, defeated, I started writing this letter as some sort of therapy. They always say that facing your fears is the way to overcome them, after all.
When I was fifteen, I tried exactly that. Taking matters into my own hands, I decided that if I ended it all myself, then you’d be less scary, and maybe I could regain some semblance of control. It was silly to think that I could have the upper hand against you, my foe. You’re the boogeyman, the mysterious force hanging above my head, lurking in the shadows. You’re arrogant, taking what and whom you please with no remorse. You, death, are my worst fear, my enemy, the one thing I wish I could make go away and the one thing I know I can’t.
But maybe your inevitability makes you less scary. There’s serenity in the uncertainty, if I really think hard about it. The unknown can make one appreciate things more, live life to the fullest, so long as you don’t let the anger and grief and questions weigh you down. I’ve never been good at that last part, but I will get better. I have to.
You may be unavoidable, but that won’t control me as it did at seven. I see now that you want me, all of us, to submit to your all-powerful force, to feel your misery encompass us. Well, let me tell you this: I won’t let you win. No matter how much fear and hate I hold towards you, you are still the only guarantee in life—at least one can evade taxes. But I don’t want that daunting fact of life to paralyze me anymore. I will conquer you and your ugly darkness by living a light, beautiful life. A life without fear, without constraints, without you.
I don’t think my dad is actually going to die today. But, on the off chance that a strange, unknown force of nature decides it’s his time, I won’t make the same mistakes I did when I was seven. If, God forbid, my dad doesn’t make it, I won’t allow you to eat me alive once again, to shield me from all the good in the world by encompassing me in the bad. I refuse to be scared. My fear gives you power, and no matter how much you may hurt me, I will never grant you such power again.

(84% Style Score)

You made yourself known
To a very young girl
Who wanted to dress up
Play with high heels and pearls
She asked many to join her
But was shut down, forgotten
So slowly but surely
She shut her heart down and locked it
She was desperate, pathetic
In need of attention
So she did things to get it
That I would rather not mention
That young girl grew up
And she made a mistake
She let down her guard
And she let her heart break
She didn’t ask him to stay
She was taught at a young age
Never beg one to be there
Humans aren’t meant to be caged
The bump on her belly
Made no difference at all
And when the blood started coming
He never even called
Just the same as that girl had
She felt worthless and weak
She was embarrassed and shut down
Puny and meek
From that day going forward
She did what she had to
To ensure you weren’t present
She had to avoid you
She became a chameleon
And transformed as was necessary
To feed the needs of her suitors
Her friends, or her family
Here’s the thing with rejection, though
It has no worthy contender
Because you are inevitable
Even to the very best pretender
The best she can do now
Is dress in high heels and pearls
And to break that whole cycle
For her own little girls
To show them they’re worthy
Loved, and accepted
Because one really suffers
When all they feel is rejected.

(Style Score 100%)

Dear fear,

You’ve been my side for so long. A confusing companion,you were always whispering sweet terribles in my ear. You did it all with a smile and and a nod, as if I were supposed to thank you for it afterward. Every slight move I made, there you were, like clockwork, whispering in my ear as if I’d never heard it before “You will become this”. Such a warning that often caused me to put my guard up in whichever endeavor I was embarking on, be it a conversation or a hobby, an event. You were so terrified that I would quickly, or slowly, become a different person who was obsessed with this thing or idea. You could see the dateline episode now: “She lived a normal life, until she discovered (fill in the blank) and everything changed.” Followed by a she went crazy or ended up in a ditch. Fear, you’re very predictable in that way, the endings to your stories always end similar to this.

But what you don’t understand, fear, is that when you whisper this in my ear, I put my guard up, I make myself balance my mind and my time, which makes me feel healthier. But the terrifying feeling doesn’t go away. I still
think I’m one move away from insanity or death. I don’t trust myself or my ability to discipline myself and keep in check. It’s driven from fear instead of from love and respect for myself. The other thing to consider, fear, is that some areas need focus, immersion, practice, and I cannot do that with you
or the shadow of you nearby to remind me that if I play too much, I will
neglect my family, forget all of the things I have to do and not pay my bills
because I’m too focused on the piano. This keeps me from doing anything that takes more attention than just one attempt.

I know you’re trying to help and have good intentions. You’re just trying to keep me safe. So here’s my proposal: I will make a list of all of the important things to do in my life. On that list, I will leave a space for new hobbies, new ideas, learning, music, etc. But this list will remind me if and when I get tunnel vision, exactly where this lies on my priorities list. I will put the list up so I can see it every day and it will remind me. So you can rest and be ready
for when I need you for something bigger. And you have to trust me that when I look at that list that I will re-calibrate and make sure to stick to the list and be the healthiest I can be.

See, fear? You’re not going to be asked to leave. You’re important. You just need to rest and I will take care of this one for us. If we can learn to work together, we will feel great and do great things.

You’ve plagued my life for years. You crept into my life and grew into a shadow that grew into my personality.

In my elementary years, you were a bad taste in my mouth. You made me fear bringing my report card to my parents, fear my homework, fear not knowing something, fear raising my hand in class. You told me I was dumb. 

In my middle school years, you were a cloud in my head. I was afraid of my peers. I had fears of being an outcast. Fears of being weird. Fears of being myself. You told me no one would like me. You told me I was too different, too weird. You told me I was a loser. I played volleyball in these years, too. I loved the sport until you made me fear it. Fear of being a terrible player. Fear of my teammates judging me. Fear of disappointing my parents. You told me my entire self-worth was in my performance. You told me that if I miss my serve, hit, or set, my parents would resent me. You told me my teammates would resent me. You told me I wasn’t good enough. And I stopped playing.

In my high school years, you were constricting my chest. You made me fear my friends. Fear they would realize I was a loser. Fear they were lying to me. Fear I was going to losing them. You told me they hated me. You told me they only liked me because they felt bad for me. You told me they were talking behind my back. You told me I wasn’t worthy of having friends. 

In my adult life, you were everywhere. You were in my bones, in my skin, and in my veins. You left me paralyzed with fear. I had all these fears of my previous years with the added fear of not being a good adult. Fear of getting fired. Fear of not having an income. Fear of getting evicted. Fear of being homeless. Fear of earthquakes. Fear of fires. Fear of being a terrible cat owner. Fear of everyone lying. Fear of being in a car accident. Fear of going outside. Fear. Fear. Fear. You told me I wasn’t capable of handling anything that might come at me. You told me I wasn’t able to adapt. You told me I was already a failure.

You always were quick, decisive, and persuasive. Why wouldn’t I believe you when you said I was weak?

I never knew your real name. I know it now. Your name is anxiety. I discovered your name when I sought help. I discovered your weakness is mindfulness, breathing, talking about you, and accepting you. I realized I am not a failure. I am worthy of having friends. I am good enough. I’m not a loser. I’m not dumb. And I realized YOU make me strong. If I can still achieve a lifetime of achievements, even with you whispering your lies, I am strong. 

Goodbye for now. I know your lies will never stop, but from now on, I’ll be ready and I will be strong. 

Style Score: 100%

Dear Mr. H. Migraine,

I hope my letter finds my dearest and oldest companion in an agreeable mood and temperament. Although a letter would seem silly, as you are such a frequent visitor, we never communicate during your visits, and I would like to talk about our long and sordid relationship. I hope for us to work toward a better partnership.

You came into my life similar to how lightning meets the sands of a beach. There was no warning, and your very presence dropped me to my knees. The immense power you had over me was all I could do was hold myself together in fear that I could not keep the fabric of my being together. You do not have a face, although I am unsure if having a face would make you more or less scary, as your presence alone is terrifying even to recall. 

The moments ticked by as I stubbornly refused to make a sound or submit to your will. The clock’s ticking was in rhythm to your punishment of me, so loud, as if it was more significant than the clocks in the town squares and as if I could hear each gear moving, whirling, and ticking. 

Even after all this time, I am still unsure of what I did. I am sure of one thing: you are the immortal henchman of punishment. You are unkillable, indestructible, and unstoppable. You are the embodiment of strength and power. Your power over the human body is something to behold, and I admire its brilliance and beauty.

You start with confusion and a sense of foreboding. The voices of others become more acute. The sunlight and lightbulbs are just a little too bright, and the colors are too vivid. My eyes searched for you. You arrive at an iridescent geometric spot of doom before moving to aphasia. Every day, items or words are wrong; I am losing my understanding of reality in real-time, and I know it’s happening. I cannot deny that you are pulling me toward your chamber of unequivocal torture that is imminent, and there is nowhere to hide.

Conversations are slow to comprehend, and replying to questions sounds like talking through water. My voice is not my own. You leave me unable to communicate. I slur my words, saying things completely different from what I meant. This part causes extreme anxiety and is a double-edged sword. Anxiety speeds you through the express line to torture, but that thought alone produces more anxiety for the dreaded next step, the inability to remember what day it is, who your loved ones are, and even your name. So, of course, my only option is to repeat over and over my name is…, and my husband is…. It’s like you do this for your amusement of seeing me completely forget those around me that I love the most. 

Then, as you envelop me in your embrace, it comes like a tidal wave of every moment of regret and wrongdoing in the form of excruciating agony. I can only lay still, not daring to tip my equilibrium and press my eyes too tightly together to let out a tear, as it only adds to your torture. The pressure is like being at the ocean’s bottom while seasick. Every moment is spent contemplating every wrong thing I have said or done as though you are not long for the next life. At least you hope so because, at this point, death is a welcomed savior from you.

Your visits are sometimes brief, and other times, you stay like an unwelcomed squatter for days or weeks as though you will never tire of torturing me. The explosions of iridescent colors are so bright that they feel like daggers, open or closed, through my eyes. It makes no difference. You forced me to be blinded by you throughout the process for days.

Now, we are both getting older, and even though you are still all-powerful, we must take time away from each other more frequently. Let’s come to a truce. I don’t wish you to visit my worst enemies, but I would like you not to see me so often. I would like to spend the time I have left with my husband and family.

I understand you want to take me as you have so many; that is the nature of what you are, but you won’t win. I was born during the “Storm of the Century,” in the middle of a category five hurricane, and it portended my strength and my sheer stubbornness for survival. We can continue this dance if you insist, but you will have a long wait until I pass on an old woman warm in my bed when I am good and ready to go, but you will never take me by force. So do your worst; I am ready. 

Sincerely, Calliope Richard
(Style score 100%)

FEAR
Fear: fast heart beats feasting feverishly
Every time fear ramps serotonin quickly,
Amply avid in avoiding pain, fastidious in
Remaining alive to tell the tale of FEAR.
FEAR

BREATHE …
Barely breathing, the brain astoundingly
Reveals its respiratory ease, by reviewing
Every fear, entering the data, waiting
Another moment for analysis, wading,
Through the morass of a lack of logic,
Hearing only haloed heartbeats, heaving.
Eternally aware of time flowing: BREATHE.
BREATHE ..

THINK …
Through and push through thinking
Halves my reasoning, homing only on survival
Instead of clarity of thought,
Never receiving the memo of
Knowing that ‘fight or flight’ is all in a knot. THINK.
THINK …

ACT …
Actively, arduously permitting action that
Covers slippery seconds of being frozen, while
Time reveals your success, failure, and your missing fervor.
ACT …

©️Malak kalmoni chehab ©️

Dear Fear,

I am writing this letter to say goodbye. Before we part ways, there are some things I want to say. First, you’ve had control of my life for far too long. Fear, you and your associates plagued me so many times till I thought I was losing my mind. Fear of failure deterred me from going for so many of my dreams. I achieved many things, but I wanted to do much more. Fear of failure made me become my worst enemy, as I gave up instead of giving myself a chance. I accepted defeat prematurely before taking any actions or putting in minimum effort.

Projected upon me was also a fear of rejection that made me question my very worth. So many times, I chased after people and things that were no good for my peace. So many times, I felt as if I wasn’t good enough. The reflection in the mirror was hazy, as so many times, I hardly recognized who I was, constantly trying to conform to be accepted by others. Fear of rejection made me forgo values and standards that I had set for myself, settling for the bare minimum. I wish I could tell you about all the anxiety and insecurities that I experienced, but I am sure that you already know. For so long, I felt crippled by my overthinking because of fears.

Fear, while you’ve shaped much of my life, I won’t blame you entirely. I allowed you to take control of my thoughts and emotions, but not anymore. Your associates, such as fear of failure, are no longer welcome, for I have gained a brand new confidence. I am no longer worried about the things I haven’t accomplished, but grateful for those that I have accomplished. I am now pursuing those goals that I was once afraid to go for. If I succeed or not is not a concern, for sometimes, one must step out on faith. Fear of rejection no longer has power, for I have and am learning to love me, accepting and embracing the person I am, flaws and all. I know my worth and no one will ever make me question it again.

I can no longer allow you or your associates to take up anymore space. You cannot share space with my faith. So, fear, it is time to cut our ties to each other. I don’t know what the future holds, but I am not fearful. For the sake of my inner peace and happiness, I bid you goodbye as I fully embrace joy and gratitude.

Sincerely,

(100% Style Score)

I’m the star child, isn’t that wild? The one who got good grades and was always praised. “It must feel so nice always feeling suffice”, people always say, but they never see my dismay. My brother and sister messed up, but not me, I’m the star child. The child who never messes up and keeps her chin tucked , the child that they tell their friends about whenever they need an ego boost or just another illusion to be produced. Because they made me this way, right? They made me the star child I didn’t ask to be and now it grabs a hold of me. Every step I take is calculated and planned I can’t even pee without raising my hand. Stuck In the shackles of their depiction of me while I scream and shout to be let out. But what if I told them I wasn’t a star, that I sit alone at bars wondering if I’ll ever actually be seen outside of the reality they painted me. The dead reality of who I am can’t seem to be let out, because of the fear I’ll shatter their dreams of who they thought I’d be, but how is that fair to me? Maybe I am a star. Stars are just dead, bright lights we see at a distance, anyway. To them, that light shines so bright, even in the darkest of nights.

Style score 100%

Dear Death,
I hate you. I hate that you took my birth mother away from me. I hate that you stole her and snatched my oldest sister from me … my birth dad too. I was only a child, left alone in this world to figure out life without the people who had given me mine.
Did you have an obsession with me? You must have, right? I was only three when I first heard about you. I remember my parents rushing to the house across the street because you had come early in the morning to take an aunt I would soon forget. You continued to rear your elusive head every now and then, taking away uncles, aunts, cousins, friends. You are cruel. You never allowed me to see you inhabit these bodies; I only heard that you came, and then they were gone.
The first time I saw you inhabit a being was through an animal. A horse. My favorite animal. There had been an accident—a carriage flipped into a canal. I don’t remember what happened to the driver, but I remember the large animal lying sideways, bloodied, a pile of lifeless meat. I don’t know how old I was—maybe five—but I saw you then, didn’t I?
I wish you had faced me when you took my mom and sister. But no, you came in the form of an announcement. Miles away, you robbed me of a goodbye, stripped me of their comfort. Did you think about the impact? The trajectory you would set my life on? Let me tell you.
In a world where one finds safety in community, you taught me not to depend on one. You taught me to shrink myself, to become quieter, to avoid taking up space. You taught me how not to be a burden. With my mother gone and thrust upon extended family, I was a burden. You made me agreeable—a child quick to appease. A motherless child. You made me fiercely independent, someone who knows they have nobody. Thanks for that.
Dear Death, I am no longer a child. You know that. And though you took everything I had, Life has given me more! The husband of my dreams, and children of my own.
And yet, the problem with having so much love is that now I have so much to lose. So much love to lose.
I can’t lose them too! You can’t take them from me. The girl you taught not to need a soul by taking away the family she was born into now needs the family she has created. I foolishly yet bravely forgot the lesson you taught me at six years old. Dear Death, we understand each other. You know I’m scared, and I know you don’t care. Even so, I’m pleading with you.
Please let me love them. Please let me see old age in a way my mother never did. Allow my husband to fall in love with my wrinkles, to feel his fingers run through my gray hair. Allow me to witness the evolution of his shoulders—shoulders that will hunch in old age, burdened by the weight of a life well lived. Please, let my kids have their mom. Let me see them take flight, fall in love, live their dreams, and discover their purpose. Let me see them grow up. Let me see my grandchildren. Let us have each other. Please.
Dear Death, for you to win, my family doesn’t need to lose. You have won my respect. I revere you. I fear you. And to show you how much I fear you, I am going to do something bold. I am going to live! I am going to love deeply. I am going to laugh as much as I can. I am going to live out loud and reclaim the girl you scared away 30 years ago.
You have power. And so do I.
Dear Death, I invite you to watch me live.
Until we meet again.

Style Score: 81%

God’s words fell down on me like rain.
Darling, your despair is not in vain.
I know that rape and abuse shattered your world.
But you’ll use that pain to heal women and girls.
Open your mouth, share your truth.
The world needs to hear what I planted inside you.
A closed mouth doesn’t get fed.
Tell them what God said.
I chose YOU to carry that weight.
Women who cross your path won’t endure the same.
I put two little girls in your womb;
they’re going to continue spreading seeds when they bloom.
Before you were born, these words were spoken.
Morgan. You were chosen.
It may feel like just pain on the surface.
However, pay pain attention, it will lead you to your purpose.
That pain is your compass.
How can you heal anyone, if you haven’t first healed yourself?
To heal is your mission and then share that wealth.
Don’t be anxious and have no fear.
You were created in my image and neither lives here!
You are my prophet.
As you go into the world to do what you’ve been told to do, my favor is extended to you.
Remember, if I favor you, the devil favors you too.
Now, If you’ve been obedient you’re on stage standing.
So help those in need gain understanding.
To anyone who has suffered abuse,
These words are from God to you.
Beloved, you are beautiful-from within.
The cracks in your heart are so I can shine my light in.
Inhale. Until air fills your insides.
Exhale. All the pain that filled your insides.
Extend yourself some grace. I will reprove King’s for your sake.
That assault was not your fault.
So remove your heart from the vault.
Hold your head high without a second thought.
Exalt.
Morgan, now back to you.
Standing on stage and speaking your truth.
I know you have fear, but you did it scared.
Real righteous and rare.
Continue to spread.
Tell them what God said.

Style score: 100%

Dear Forgiveness,
You keep lingering around when I think about all the hurt I’ve experienced from others. Your constant need for acknowledgement causes uneasiness inside me. My chest gets tight, my heart feels heavy, and my eyes fight back tears. What is the purpose of you continuing to torture me? I have already given my most vulnerable parts to these people, and here you are asking me to pardon them for their actions against me. It is best to ignore what they have done and move on from it. What good comes from hashing out these painful events? Why do you want me to relive those moments? I have shed enough tears for these people, and I refuse to give anymore. I cannot and will not allow you to have power over me. Forgiving them and their actions is letting them off the hook, and that is far from fair. If I open my heart to you, I risk being hurt once more, and everyone will assume it wasn’t a big deal since I moved on and forgive so easily. They would be mistaken, because this weight I carry is sometimes more than I can bear. I’ve thought to myself time and time again, if accepting you will finally set me free and allow me to drop this load. I know fearing you is part of the process, but I do not think it is fair for those that have hurt me to continue on with no consequences.
 
One day, I will allow you to help me through all of this. I will accept and understand that I need to set boundaries for everyone in my life, not just the ones who hurt me, to minimize the chances of me being hurt by someone’s harmful behaviors and choices again. To heal, I must love myself enough to recognize you’re for me, not my abusers. You don’t excuse the hurtful things people do, but you help free me from carrying the weight of resentment. I may not accept you now, but I will be once I find the support and guidance needed to navigate through such a complex concept you are. I cannot allow my fear of you to win. My bravery and strength will help me fight through this fear and the pain it causes. I refuse to continue to be a victim to my trauma and the people that helped cause it. I deserve to be happy, sane, and confident once again. To heal completely, I must fight my fear of you and claim victory. I realize my fear is based on possibilities, not realities. Thank you, forgiveness, for pestering for so long and pushing me to start this journey. It’s just you and me now.
(100% Style score)