Sup, guys.
Tobacco, I know we've had a longstanding mutual attachment to one another and it's hard to let go of a familiar face. You've always been there for me. We'd sit on the porch doing the same repetitive, time-wasting activity for hours, and you'd never get bored. The others like you and your sense of humor. We even have our antisocial inside-jokes, like how we laughed when our peers would shrivel up and avoid us when they smelled you on me, and I'll always appreciate that. I just can't stand the black lung, frankly. It burns sometimes. You're a beautiful force of nature, but I'm just too weak to handle you. Sorry, old pal.
Anxiety? Get off the roof, it's not a sniper's nest. Yes, the neighbors can see the red dot. No, I'm not afraid that the poodle in Apt. 1085 has ticks. No, the postman doesn't care that I'm wearing pajama pants at 5 PM. You're a reliable sentinel, Anxiety, but sometimes security has to come second. You should listen to Depression more often and look at the big picture instead of the tiny details.
Speaking of whom, I'd like Depression to quit being such a goddamn bummer all the time. Jesus christ, man, do you have to turn everything into a tiresome philosophical merry-go-round? I'm just getting some fucking coffee, not axing the ticky poodle in Apt. 1085. Stop nitpicking at me. Stop reminding me of the inevitability of death and using that as an excuse so you and Laziness can do nothing
for a few more hours.
Insomnia? Yeah, you. Fuck you. Get out. Nobody likes you except Anxiety, and he's a hyper-vigilant nutcase. You make his gun hand shaky anyway.
OCD, I'll give you a pass. You're trying. You really, really are trying to let go. I know you're hurt and scared, and I know you just want to forget and make it better, but that's not your responsibility. It's mine. We'll get through this.
And finally, Xanax: passionate love at first sight. You make me forget. You let me sleep. You're eventually going to debride my liver and turn me into a psychotic addict. Let's have a fling and hook-up again later, but don't expect anything long-term. Bye, darling.