Really, when you think about it... we're good friends, you and I.
You wrap your arms around my chest and cover my mind with barbed wire; you fill my hands with tremors, but we're friends, you and I.

Yes, your grip is tight - because you're trying to protect me. Your wires are a fortress, built to ward off the pain. And yes, there are tremors on each of my fingers - but that's because you're fighting to keep my foes at bay.

Thank you for the chest cramps and thank you for the barbed wire. Thank you for the tremors - you mean well and you're kind! I see what you're trying to do and I'm grateful, truly. Survival-mode is a gift and you give it to me daily. You know all the worst case scenarios, you recite them to keep me from harm. Your symphony of alarm bells is an ode to my safety. You fill my mind with flashing lights - and you do it out of love! You live to keep me alive. So thank you.

But friend, you can rest now. There's no danger here. I'm safe, we're safe, there's no need to fear. You can loosen up now, ease your grip, drop the wires. You can stop fighting now, rest a little, stop the tremors. We have an understanding, I hear you loud and clear. But it's ok now, we're ok now! Look, the King's here.