You started out as a wee little patch of skin on my eyelid. This was a long time ago, back before I can remember. You then disappeared for a good long while before migrating to the back of my neck. In the fifteen years since the back-of-the-neck patch of you, you have moved to my throat and have settled in quite nicely. You’ve now held your residence there for literal years, and while you’ve been a consistent tenant, I must ask you to leave.
I understand that we’ve fallen into a bit of a comfortable pattern and that you feel you are more than welcome to stay. I also understand that the newest patches of you were probably just sent to my left shoulder this afternoon because it felt left out of all of the itchy fun that the rest of my skin was getting to participate in. This was very considerate of you. However, I need you to go and quickly.
I’m in agony, Eczema. Our lifelong relationship has been full of ups and downs, shouts of, “My eczema is clearing up!” to cries of, “I don’t know why my skin is freaking out, but this is terrible!” I don’t know what you want or how to make you go away, but I promise to do whatever it is.