A prose about being an agoraphobe. XD Inspired by the silly author on Nim's Island who is an agoraphobe.

My fingers graze the rough wool of my peacoat as I button the last one…my closed lids are the last stability I can embrace. Just turn the knob…it’s not difficult… Thoughts rush through my mind all at once. Did I turn the gas off?! Is my hair staticy? What if I get the flu? PNEUMONIA?! TUBURCULOSIS?! I inch away from the door, the wilderness outside is too much for me to handle. I need more canvas. Paint. Tea. I need to go… The knob finally turns, the door creaks open, sunlight hits my eyes as they widen and I begin to hyperventilate. Just breathe. Breathe. OH GOD. I can’t go. I can’t go! I wander back to the kitchen and sip more tea. My eyes glance at the door. I DIDN’T CLOSE IT! SOMETHING’S GOING TO GET IN! I run towards the door as a gust of autumn wind forces it open. Hyperventilation. I finally force the door closed and lean my back against it. That was close. But what am I going to do about… I wander back to the kitchen and open the cabinets. Full contents: a half eaten bag of animal crackers, a can of organic pineapple slices…and no tea. NO TEA! I need to get some more… I strut towards the door that seems to hard to grasp and force myself to open it. One foot out the door…then another. Hyperventilation. Panic attack. Oh god, I can feel my throat closing! IT’S CLOSING UP! Realization struck me. Disease! Dear god, please don’t let it be so! A leaf falls gently upon my head…Ahh! BUG! DISEASE! I scramble back into the house, locking the three locks that barricading the outside jungle. Delivery! Delivery! Why didn’t I think of that before? As I dialed the number of the art supplier, I thought, this world is too insane for an agoraphobe like me.