My home is my safehaven. I reside here almost every hour of the day. I only leave if it has been deemed necessary. I earn my living out of my home, and I am very minimalistic, as my pay is... Well... Meager.

I work for a telemarketing company, making calls out of my home and harrassing people who... Well... Enjoy chewing my out. I'm expected to successfully advertise a 2 week-long cruiseship scam for a tourist trap business called 'Right to Left'. My goal: Get 300 new sign-ups every month. In short, I'm the person that people take out their every frustration on. You would think I have the patience and tolerance of a saint, but this is not the case. I have only trained myself to be soulless and steel-hearted while on the job.

In the real world, the really scary world; I am sensitive and I am drawn to near tears if someone, anyone, raises their voice at me. My occupation and my sensitivity are contributing factors regarding my borderline agoraphobia, but I'm still in the state of denial.

I leave the house when I need to, right? I'm not agoraphobic, I can brave the outside world. I can go grocery and necessity shopping without a problem. I survive perfectly fine with the lifestyle I have. Then why is it that every time, when my auntie Youngil calls, do I doubt myself? Maybe it's just her atrocious personality and her habit of belittling others and challenging their motives. I shudder at the thought and set my fishbowl down. She's a horrifying woman.

I look at the fish I just bought swimming around in the plastic tupperware container. He is small, adorable, and so fragile. I start to question my sense of responsibility, then I shake it off and open the container. I empty it inside the new fishbowl gently and toss the container into the sink to wash later. Counting the money in my wallet, I list the remaining supplies I have yet to buy in my head. Looks like I have an other trip to the outside world waiting for me tomorrow.

Thinking about tomorrow, I begin to think about the events of today. I laugh at how odd the pet store was and the eccentric people I met earlier today. It takes all kinds to make the world spin, doesn't it?

For a fleeting moment, I feel bad for the boy who stomped on his nametag pin.

I was the one who initiated his fury in the first place, wasn't I? It's no use feeling bad about it; what am I blaming myself for? Maybe it's because he's the type of person I am not. He braves the world every moment of his life and has probably done so ever since he was born. I however, have been cowering. It's that extra bit of bravery that I long for. I am only brave enough to get by, but people like him, normal people, have so much more bravery than they really need. But he is handsome, God he is oh so handsome. Is this the source of his bravery? Or is he confident for an other reason? I think too much.

I groan aloud and slump into one of my dining chairs.

I decide to take a walk.

Maybe I should start exposing myself more.

I'm too much of a hermit and I know it.