Letter To Insecurity

Dear Insecurity,

Hello again. 
Can't say I'm the happiest to re-connect with you. 

You bring along a shaky feeling in my stomach. My body wants to collapse into the ground.
My voice is suddenly three octaves higher. I age regress when you are around, dear Insecurity.
I am a five year old again, an eight year old, a teen, a tween, a young girl feeling insecure.
When you are around, I think the whole world judges everything about me. I am well aware that the world has better things to do than occupy itself with my lil' ole' self, but the self-indulgent belief persists. And then I turn my judgment on myself: I am shit. I am a loser. I am nothing. A pile of garbage. Inadequate. Imperfect. Insecure.

Being insecure is like not knowing one's self at all.
It's lonely with you, Insecurity. It's lonely when you join me. Because when you join me - I go and separate from the rest of the world. You are like some cult leader pulling me away from my family. A cunning and very charismatic cult leader. The cult of 'Insecurity.'
Clearly, you are intertwined with Ego, Insecurity. You disguise yourself as a victim but we both know that you run things with Ego in the lead pulling your strings. I'm on to that trick, Insecurity. I SEE you. I see exactly what you are.  
You are a mistress of illusion: you sweep me away from my center, my core, my grounding, my KNOWINGNESS. You pull me to be all consumed with self-judgement, fear, self-doubt, you name it. You shove any inch of my deep self-knowing away like it was a plague. 

But you know what?
There's something else about you that makes me kind of okay with all of that: You are TEMPORARY. That's right. You are a state, and in a moment - POOF! You will be gone, just like that. You are a passing sneeze, an itch, a pimple that is irritating as hell but GOES AWAY QUICKLY. You are a temporary nuisance, dear Insecurity.
And you got nothing on me. 

Sayonara, bitch. 

Your temporary vessel.