Panting.
Panting.
I pant as I run towards the outstretched arms before me—towards the arms that are capable of enveloping me into its disillusioned world where the word "regret" is incapable of planting itself within the crevices of my mind. But then I wake up and feel his fingers lightly running down my spine, and for a moment I forget about the danger of living. I lean back and look at him, longing to say the words I’ve been meaning to say for so long: I know we’ll fall in love and fall apart, and do not be afraid.