Walking down the street, I felt every single person eyeing me. They were piercing me with their stares, and it was making me feel sick. Then I heard a faint voice of objectivity whispering from the depths of my emotional insecurity: “Do you honestly believe that strangers on the street notice you? You are just one of millions. Why would they stare?”.

     I was getting all worked up again. I could feel the tears coming, so I quickly grabbed my iPod and put on some music. Ah, much better. It seemed as though not being able to hear the world had made it disappear.

     As I let reality fade, I started day dreaming about the life I wished I had. I imagined myself in my perfect form. The brilliant girl who looked like a model, dressed beautifully and walked gracefully. The one that everybody liked, because she was genuinely kind to everyone. The talented one that could sing, dance and act. The one that fell in love with the perfect guy who worshipped her. The one that ended up getting discovered and made something wonderful of her life. My mind went through countless scenarios revolving around the perfect me.

     Suddenly, my iPod’s battery went flat. I was brought out of my fantasy-coma. I realized that I’d been walking around, to nowhere. It felt like nothing at all, I could have walked five more. Sighing at the inevitable pain that came with the dawn of reality, I walked to the nearest train station. I rode home that night, knowing I’d be back on that street again the next day.

     Walking. Dreaming. Escaping.