How am I supposed to answer that question? Am I supposed to be able to answer? Am I supposed to know? I am mad not because they ask But because I ask "What am I going to do next?" Anxiety makes my day so wrong Guilty makes my night so long Head's aching, heart's beating And my hands won't stop sweating But maybe the time I spent whining Should've been spent for searching And trying and failing and moving And maybe it's okay To not knowing the answer But maybe the time I spent whining Should've been spent for searching And trying and failing and moving And maybe it's okay To not knowing the answer To keep finding what makes my heart sing To not rush the process, the progress And how the time flies To accept that we've just stepped Into the real world, after all Maybe