the tightness in my chest when i consider leaving the house... it's like pixel hissing at a stranger only the stranger is the sun and other humans, the kind who make eye contact. i could just not look at them, build a bigger wall, but then what's the point of even opening the door? it's just a different kind of prison then, isn't it? the kind where the bars are invisible and i'm the only one who can see them. The 'what's the point' question is a real killer, isn't it? Like, if I go through ALL the steps to manage the panic, and I DO IT, and I get there... what if 'there' is still just 'here,' but with more sensory input? Maybe the point is the doing itself, the small act of defiance against the hiss.