What is home to an agoraphobe?

"You're an agoraphobe..." the therapist blurts out

to the fifteen-year-old who sits twiddling their thumbs.

"Go home, get some rest..." go home, he says. Get some rest,

but the anxiety may be too much.

Home is more than just enough.

What is home to an agoraphobe? Refuge.

What is home to an agoraphobe? Safety.

A place where nothing can come in to hurt you.

Monsters in the closet locked safely outside.

People who may wander around town looking for prey like you

or me.

"Take this medicine once a day..." Hands shake and

labels read:

can cause slight dizziness,

drowsiness,

you may fall asleep.

"Take this medicine twice a day" Hands shake and

this time its pink.

Small in hand, two of these can

"lower the heart rate..." he says.

"Go home..."

And that word 'home' is better than any medication can do.

And that word 'home' is better than the pills, the drinks, the weird labels on bottles.

Hand on the door they go inside and do just that, they rest.

Home. A place of refuge. Safety and the blues.

Your own room where nothing can come in without your say so.

A slither of control in a life you were never made to live.

What is home to an agoraphobe? I'll tell you.

It's a place where everything is different to the outside,

nails aren't as sharp,

hammers don't fall as hard,

people are gone

and nothing matters.

What is home to an agoraphobe? I'll tell you.

It's a fantasy land that exists when you fall asleep and it still there

when you wake up,

when you shower and brush your hair,

when you eat your dinner.

It never goes away and each time we are gone, we are never really disconnected for somewhere is always home.

And each time we are gone, we can never wait to get back to home. The safety where we lie locked in our own box - safe from the outside.