When I was small, so was she. My hands deep in sand, She'd be on the grass with a teddy     Snoring softly. When dragons raged and damsels danced To find space in my mind, worry wouldn't have chanced.  A little older, buses beeping,My schedule drowning in ink,She'd needle me with pencil points,Stopping me from sleeping.She insisted perfection would make my future brighter,So I chased it and stress ignighted like fire. Straight A's achieved, I walk in tasselsI thought she'd finally rest.But higher pressure, higher stakesSoon replaced my adolescent hassles.She squeezed her way inside my bags That ever-hungry vultureAs I walked away from comfy comprehensionTo see another culture. Fast she fed on fish and foreign lettersShaking limbs and strangled breathHeart flying, eyes crying,I crumble inside her iron fetters.One weapon left: two white pillsThey hit their mark-my weapon kills. Numb nervesI thought would bring me peace.But another fight beganWith a solemn, beating drumA world without passionDiagnosed: depression Struggling to get her back I faught sickening withdrawlsBut now that she's hereDepression takes a backtrack.While still not pleasant I need her to encourage my future to be better than my present. Now she's growing. I'll grow too.I won't give her up again.Gratitude comes from knowing.She plays a vital role for me.Thank you, Anxiety.