Dear M.E

When asked the question, “If you could go back ten years knowing all you know now, would you?” I think of all the things i’ve had power to change, the things I would change about myself now, and answer no. because all the time machine’s ┬áin the world, all the hours taken back, recounted, like miles in reverse, would not change you, M.E, you were not a mistake i made as a child, like falling off the climbing frame, you were a fate forced upon me with inevitability, ten years back in in time would not change you, only lengthen you, that piece of string you are would grow inexplicably longer.

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Dear M.E

There is not a lot out there to help me deal with you. No magic pill that kills you, no soothing remedy, or definite action. You are not a simple illness and therefore there is no simple cure. But there are methods we learn, tools we are given to become stronger.

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Dear M.E

You have a sister, she is called anxiety.

Like you and your best friend, you are her just fit, compliment each other in ways that are worse for me. she is the hammer, you are the nail, and I am a bad DIY job, that you feel indebted to make worse. I look like a porcupine with all these nails in me.

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