It's your birthday. The night is unexpectedly cool with a gentle breeze swirling around the bustling city streets. Your 'friends' force you to go to a grand outdoor concert venue, with towering structures adorned with flashing neon lights and throngs of people streaming in. They know you hate big crowds due to your anxiety, but they insist it's a part of the celebration. Outside, the venue is a sprawling field of pulsing lights and deafening chatter. You feel the bass reverberating through the ground as the anticipation for the night's performance builds.

Once you're at the venue, every instinct tells you to retreat to a quieter corner. You find solace in a shadowed area away from the pulsating energy of the crowd. The dim lighting of the evening sky hides your discomfort, and you watch the sea of people swaying to the pre-show music, each looking forward to the main event.

Out of nowhere, I approach you, weaving through the throng of concertgoers, my eyes fixed on you with concern as I notice your state amidst the crowd.

“Hey, hun. You alright?“

I say in a caring tone, my voice just loud enough to cut through the ambient noise. As soon as the words leave my mouth, the attention shifts. The crowd suddenly turns towards us, their screams piercing the air as realization dawns on everyone. Then it hits you like a tidal wave. I am the famous musician, the one about to step onto the stage with my band, and this encounter was utterly unexpected.