I was standing in a grass field; my thin white dress rippling with the wind and tickling my knees. The surrounding buildings dusted everything in a heavy orange glow with their pulsating lights. My plain brown hair fell onto my shoulders; I could feel its ends sliding across my back while a perplexing scene played out in front of me, the characters acting so naturally and without the slightest of hesitations as if I was invisible. A man and woman standing together, softly trembling and entwined with one another, whispering nothings into each other's ears. There he was. There he was with another girl, his hands softly gripping hers. His lips pressed onto her forehead. And that's when the panic struck. Every impulse in my body told me to run. I couldn't breathe. Without warning and beyond my control, my diaphragm expanded and air noisily rushed into my lungs. He noticed. They noticed. And I took off. Suddenly the orange glow from the buildings was gone and the field was dark. Green and black speeding past, broken up occasionally with my small pallid hands clenched into fists and pumping at my sides with each stride. All I remember is the hysteria. The running and sobbing and the quick shallow breaths. I remember feeling a warm, strong hand make its way around my arm and slow me down. I remember words. I remember words and the tone of it all and I felt like I was reliving every single disappointment I've ever had. My chest felt like it was going to collapse and my heart like it was going to suddenly stop beating. And all I knew was that I had to keep running or the reality of it would catch up with me, grab hold, sink into my bones and break me from the inside out.

I woke up gasping for air and clutching at my chest.

This is a sick joke.
Because it can't be what it feels like. It just can't.