To awake every morning, 
to not know where you are.
To see the new day dawning,
to feel pain in your heart.
To be uneasily calm,
to not know what the future holds.
To feel years apart,
to no understand what's been told

For no one has the answers,
for no one gives any clues.
For everyone who dances,
for games you never loose.
For to live a life in hell,
for uncertainty undone.
For time will eventually tell,
for what is to become.  

Living with anxiety since primary school, when there was no label, no one to tell me why my heart was racing or why my face was constantly flushed, or why I was always on the brink of tears. It was difficult. I didn’t have people to turn to. No one who understood how I was feeling, therefore, it left my speechless. I spent a lot of my primary schooling year’s mute. I constantly felt different. But I had my journals. I had a secret space to work out my feelings. I wrote poems in the middle of the night. Now I feel ready to share them.