It’s walking down a street, enjoying the sunshine, and suddenly feeling like your lungs are collapsing because you have forgotten how to breathe.
It’s being on the phone at work, doing random tasks, organizing post it notes, and suddenly feeling like your heart is being engulfed in flames.
It’s having drinks with friends, laughing at their cheesy pick up lines, and suddenly noticing how high up you are from the ground.
It’s telling yourself to breathe. Just breathe. But you don’t know how.
It’s spending a day at home. Watching Youtube videos and eating vanilla ice cream with fuzzy socks and suddenly, having to take a big gulp of air because you feel like you’re going to faint.
It’s seeing a note from your boss and feeling heat rise to your cheeks, anticipating the worst possible outcome.
It’s going on a first date, giddy and excited, but deciding that you probably aren’t good enough for them anyway.
It’s strolling down the city streets in January, and walking faster when you see a stranger behind you, fearing the worst.
It’s partying and getting wasted with your friends, loving life, and suddenly clutching at your chest, begging it to restart.
It’s boarding an airplane, excited to get to your destination, and suddenly dry-heaving from feeling trapped.
It’s attending a formal gathering, greeting relatives, and suddenly feeling your knees buckle.
It’s singing in the choir for your high school’s 50th anniversary, and suddenly feeling your body sway sideways, even though your feet are firmly planted on the ground.
It’s wanting to run, when you can only crawl. It’s wanting to shout, when you can only whisper. It’s wanting to sing, when you can only whistle.
It comes out of nowhere. It comes from nothing, and turns into the strongest monster that has ever haunted your bedroom.
And it doesn’t go away.
It’s never ending.
It’s real for us.