I don't make up titles for my writing, so it's up to whoever

Time flies by as it turns from daylight to dusk,
Some things forced and most are rushed,
Even if I wake at the crack of dawn,
No time to work on what I wanna work on,
And all those dreams of what I wanted to become,
Evaporate once negative words come from someone,
Because patience is lacking and the words I can't find,
Never come out the way I picture in my mind,
Desperate for compainionship but longing for solitude,
Hoping the faces I meet could see me the way you do,
And the words always slip in conversation,
Try hard to play it off in desperation,
And who I was then is not who I am now,
But the things I liked about old me are gone somehow,
Half filled journals are hidden under my bed,
Filled with thoughts and feelings I wish I never said,
My mind feels blank as the days are rushed,
And it feels when I speak I'm always hushed,
What do they think when they first meet me,
If I described myself in one word would they disagree,
Because I don't know the word I would use,
But somehow I know it would be verbal abuse,
Had these feelings so long don't remember a time,
When I wanted to claim that this life was mine,
And even if I filled these journals with all my own words,
Would these pages even have any worth?