Gemotions

The sun was too bright, the birds were too loud, the world was too much. His mother’s well-meaning advice, delivered with gentle concern, felt like a barbed wire. The words themselves didn't hurt; it was the implication of his own failings that pierced him.

He pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. The food on his plate was almost repulsive. He stood, his chair scraping against the floor, a sound that grated on his ears.

He stared out the window, at the neatly manicured lawn, the perfect hedges. He wanted to destroy it all, to rip it apart, to make the world as messy as he felt. He left the room without a word.