I am... Struggling

To get to higher places and meet the friendly faces,
But my mind is merely vacant, as I'm tracking what my pace is,
To never vent and bottle up on a daily basis
To not resort to being last minute in life's many races.

To never stoop down, and give in to my worries
And not find myself six feet under; I'm buried
Under work, school, and stress, all because I just hurried
To not be judged by people, my family or juries.

It's blurry; the vision that I see in my head
And instead, my folks are telling me that I'm seeing red
I am struggling to never let my dreams become dead
To be more alive and succeed from the scene that I've fled.

And I've been led; Down every corridor, cranny, and nook.
Looked through every looking glass that there is to look.
Through and through, I still can't get readers with a hook
To be inspired by a fried up story served by starving cooks.

And I know the future is harder than it looks,
But I am struggling to read my story in this life full of books.

I am.