I gaze into the mirror, caressing my face gently,
As I complete my night time routine I sense It creeping up on me.

I felt It today morning in class,
surrounded in the hustle and bustle, it escaped at the sound of the period bell.

During last week’s revelry, It held me,
in its embrace, no other company I craved.

I vex when it is around,
but the absence worries me.

Those dear to me, fret over my being,
consumed by It, nothing else takes precedence.

A companion that would hinder your journey,
astounded by It’s pull, even gravity smiles, abashed.

My mother seeks aid from someone she trusts,
she fears It will lead me astray.

It is unspoken of,
but I humour my mother’s trust.

I look into her eyes, while I confess these words,
“It is me, it is my anxiety.”