What does it say about me?

Riding through the waves of anxiety,
I take a step into the society.
Findings scraps of confidence
in mundane tasks
and mysteriously built habits;
it is not that hard, also never easy;
it’s like I am changing continuously.
There is no handle on this thing
which I can hold on to for dear life,
but there are markers over me.
Wait, I can’t remember why!
Maybe, it says who I am and who I tried to be:
Sadly it doesn’t belong to me.
I am not hurting; no it’s not painful;
in fact I am having fun, but it just doesn’t feel right.
Cause I am always changing inside,
and it’s not me anymore.

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