Dim room. Lights hanging overhead, flickering ever so slightly. No sounds other than the breathing of someone; slow and methodical as if they are in a slumber. Slowly they gain consciousness, looking around quizzically. "Where am I" they inwardly think; well, that isn't quite known just yet. Hands bound tightly with what feels like plastic, "maybe zip-ties?" the breathing human speaks out loud. "Wait", "Who am I?". This thought racked this entity as they examined their body. "Human hands, human feet.... human face" the person says as they stare into the shallow clear puddle resting on the seemingly clean floor. This person couldn't quite pin-point their name, history, how they got here, or anything for that matter, yet somehow they could speak fluent English? This whole experience was nerve racking in its entirety, down to the feeling in their very core. What is happening? Where am I? Why am I here..... The person drifted back into unconsciousness shortly due to an extreme amount of fatigue hitting them..... I woke up.... another dream. This endless stream of nightmares is just routine but I've come to realize that this feeling of loss of identity and restraint is all too familiar. Some days I can ignore it and even avoid it, but some days I feel as if my identity is stripped from me and I am just some hollow being wandering among a sea of people who have defined themselves. Why do these dreams keep coming night after night. I feel as if sometimes they help me accept and conquer my issues, but waking up crying after feeling as if everything is gone isn't right. Waking up and walking outside my room and expecting the world to be gone is an ever-lasting feeling and it is so unshakable that it seems as if one day it will happen. No one but myself and emptiness, devoid of any life or happiness. Alone in a world so alive.
