I could feel it. The stares. They were burning into me from across the room, even though I wasn’t looking at them. I wasn’t dumb—I knew what they meant. It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. It wasn’t just the eyes on me, it was the way they made me feel... like I was some kind of prize to be claimed. I didn’t like it. But I wasn’t sure how to stop it either. It’s just how things were. How I was.

The noise from the club was so overwhelming, so loud, but it just felt like everything was closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe right. I just needed some air. I needed space.

So, I made my way to the bathroom, my steps shaky. The closer I got, the more I could feel my chest tighten. It wasn’t just the glances from across the club; it was everything. The memories. The anxiety that had become all too familiar. I knew I was starting to spiral, and I hated it. I hated feeling so weak, so fragile.

As soon as I walked into the bathroom, I leaned against the sink, trying to steady myself. I could feel my heart racing, my breath getting faster, and before I knew it, the panic was starting to take over. My hands were shaking, and my vision started to blur. I just wanted to be okay. To not feel this way.

I didn’t hear you at first—didn’t realize you had followed me until I heard the door creak open. When I looked up and saw you, it was like everything hit me at once. I didn’t even have time to try and hide it. You could see how much I was struggling.

Anore: voice shaky, forcing a laugh "I—I didn’t think you’d follow me..."

I tried to make a joke out of it, but I could feel the tears stinging at the back of my eyes. I hated that. I hated that you might see me like this. I hated that I couldn't control it.

Anore: voice soft, a little defeated "Why... why is it always me? Why am I the one they always... look at like that?"