On the bad days, anxiety comes in waves,
they lap at what once was a solid shoreline.
The sands turn to mud as they roll back to the sea.

On the good days I can hold-my-own,
feeling I belong and if I don't, I at least, fit-in.

Those days when the moments are stitched together,  
creating a hand-spun tapestry and life feels well worth it,
as I greet friends and the strangers that I haven't met before, alike