Written by Eugenie Maynard
Graphic by Suhani Kapadia
CW: Mental illness.
This was originally published in ‘Chimera’, Bossy’s 2022 print edition.
Dear Eugenie,
I think it’s time for me to introduce myself. Seeing as you’re about to enter school for the first time, we were going to become acquainted soon, anyway. You won’t learn my name for quite a while yet, but I’ll be with you every step of the way. Every time the other kids climb trees and run around while you sit aside watching, not quite sure what’s holding you back. Every time you don’t understand why you’re nervous to be around your own family. You know what I’m talking about—like when your heart starts racing at the idea of family dinner because you don’t want to talk about yourself, or when you’re relieved to be home alone for a day so you don’t have to keep up the façade of being fine. I’ll be there, guiding you further and further towards that discomfort and stress. I’ll be the weight in your chest when you see everyone having fun but you just can’t join in. You and I will be great friends one day, you’ll see. We will talk soon.
Dear Stranger,
Why did you pick me? It’s been a few years since we first met, and you only ever seem to be around during my worst moments. Whenever I’m scared, confused, or sad, you’re the only constant thread. At least you’re there. I am so lonely—your presence is all I’ve got. The other day, I was at school and it was wet weather, so I was sitting inside alone, reading my book and eating lunch. Down the other end of the table, some kids were giggling and pointing, clearly making fun of me. Instead of standing up for myself or moving, I had your ten-tonne weight gluing me in place, making me believe I deserved it. And how about when the girls in dance class ignore me between classes because I don’t go to their school and I don’t like the same things as them? I could join their conversation and try to get them to like me, but you’ve built a wall so high between me and them that I fear I will never see over it. You make me hate myself; at least I know who “myself” is around you. But can you please learn to let go just a bit? I want a few friends—I don’t have to be popular, but I don’t want you to be the only one. Who am I kidding—that’s a more insane idea than the thought of ever truly understanding you. If you’re going to be the one familiar presence in my life, if you are truly the only one who is going to know me, can I at least know you? Although, let’s be real: you’ve never given too much of a fuck about what I want, anyway. Maybe this is just a cry into empty space. Maybe you’ll never read this. I guess I’ll just have to be okay with that.
Dear Eugenie,
Sorry it’s taken me so long to respond; I’ve been working overtime recently. It seems like we can’t get a day off from each other! Everywhere you go, everything you do, you create the perfect opportunity for me to rear my head—how could I refuse! I’m sorry if I’m overwhelming at times, I just get so excited about all of the possibilities of our time together. Making you second-guess your every choice, stopping you from potentially embarrassing yourself by talking to others—like the other day, when you thought your friends would actually be interested when you told them you were going overseas for a month to study. They all pretended to be happy for you, but you know deep down they don’t give a fuck about you; they didn’t care. And why should they? Their weird, self-obsessed friend once again brought up something strange out of the blue that was all about them. I’m really just doing all I can to look out for you. You should be thanking me. After all, who else is going to care about you? We’ve already established that none of your friends actually like you and that your family is too busy for you, so I guess you’re stuck with me. And before you complain, remember that I’m the reason you can do an entire assignment the night before and get an A, the reason you stay organised, and the reason your memory never fails you. So, while you keep wanting to get rid of me, know that I am the sole reason for the one good thing you’ve got going on right now.
Dear Old Friend,
I feel as though our relationship has improved immeasurably since I finally learnt your name: Generalised Anxiety Disorder. You keeping your distance since the last time we spoke has definitely helped me figure out how to manage our relationship better. You hurt me in the past, and there is no forgetting that—but you also taught me so much. I wouldn’t be the person I am today without you, which may be a good thing, but I guess I’ll never know—so there’s no point in dwelling on it. I’ll always hold the insane work rate and productivity you gave me in high regard. You’re an almost comforting reminder of my old self these days, and even though our relationship is not perfect, and probably never will be, you no longer overwhelm me to the point where I can’t think about anything else. Your familiarity will always be reassuring, but I hope we both grow further apart until one day we are strangers again.