Agoraphobia

agora: (noun) a public open space in ancient Greece used for popular meetings and assembly

agoraphobia: (noun; psychology) irrational fear of entering open or crowded places, of leaving one's own home, or being in places from which escape is difficult; characterised by frequent panic attacks

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Just a couple more steps, kiddo,

Just a few more minutes before you reach your bedroom.

I know you are afraid,

I know you are alone;

Even among the hustle of the marketplace,

Even with your friend on the telephone.

Even among the chatter of the living crowd,

Even in churches calm and concerts loud,

There is but the sound of your breath,

That is killing you from within.

Just a couple more steps, kiddo,

Just a few more minutes before you reach your bedroom.

What did you tell your girlfriend

When she asked about your hobby?

Did you say "panic attacks"?

Did you watch her burst into fits of laughter?

Didn't you avoid her the day after?

What did you do in the class

When the teacher asked you

To stand up in front of your hundred "friends"?

Did you stand up among a hundred stares,                                                              

To realise you are weak and hapless?

Or did you scamper away to freedom,

To cry on your daffodil mattress?

How did you feel when you received

The invitation for a slumber party?

Did you accept it?

Or were you so disturbed by people,

So irritated by group hugs,

So traumatised by disco lights,

And so creeped out by shutterbugs,

That you declined it altogether?

Look at your jacket

That Mamma gave you on your last birthday,

It is drenched in sweat!

Look at your hair!

You've been sitting in the AC since ages,

And still it is wet!

Look at your hands,

Fresh after wiping your tears,

Look how they tremble.

Look at their vibrations.

It is pandemonium.

Trickles of salt tickle your ear,

As the earth below you starts trembling

With the tumultuous torture around;

Terror takes over tranquillity,

It hits you like a torpedo

To throw your thoughts into oblivion.

You are thirsty.

You reach for your bottle.

The bottle shivers in your hands.

You cannot drink it, can you?

You cannot even drink water!

Because just as you bring the bottle to your lips,

It falls.

It falls with a thud.

On the ground.

In the middle of the road.

And everything stops.

The mailman on the cycle looks at you in anger.

You have disturbed the calm of the locality.

The hawker stops screaming and gives an unsettling gaze.

You are responsible for the calamity.

The colony sweeper leaves his broom and freezes.

You are a stray dog under the sun.

The watchman thinks you are a criminal.

You have no choice, but to run.

You can't even keep yourself together 

On your way home.

You are of no use.

You are filth, you are vermin.

You should run.

Just a couple more steps, kiddo,

And then, it's done.