I wouldn’t normally describe myself as a cynical person. When God created me, he created an adamant optimist. I overdosed on fairy tales as a child, and now I believe in happy endings.

Still, I am only human, and there are times when life becomes too much. Those are the times when Panic knocks down my door and demands to be my friend. And since I do not want to be friends, this demon becomes a little aggressive and tries to convince me that everything sucks and that I am completely incapable of handling any of it. Panic tells me that I am not brave or kind or good enough. I apologize over and over and I’m not really sure what I am sorry for–for existing? For being me? For not being perfect every second of every day?

Friends like that, whether they are real people or an uncontrollable force in your mind, are not needed. They are exhausting.

A few weeks ago, after a particularly emotional weekend, I told my boyfriend that there are times when I hate the world.

“I don’t know if this will help,” he said, “But maybe we can list off some things we are thankful for.”


And our list began. I listed everything that I could think of that brought me joy, from books to my family to being fortunate enough to have a source of income.

Panic does not like knowing I have better, more reliable friends. He does not like knowing that there is still hope in my heart and good in the world.

I know he will come back; he has no problem showing up uninvited.

But I know he will not stay for long.

I will live happily ever after.


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