Gemotions

Michael's essay, a deeply personal reflection on his experience with PTSD, was now credited to another author. He saw it on a blog he'd contributed to several times. He saw his words, his vulnerability, plastered across the screen, owned by someone else. He felt a physical blow.

He closed his eyes, his breath hitching. He’d spent months composing that piece, pouring out his emotions, hoping to help others. Now, it was a weapon, used against him. He felt exposed, stripped bare.

He got up and walked over to the mirror. He stared at his reflection, a stranger staring back. His face was pale, his eyes wide, vacant. He felt a surge of anger, but beneath it, a crushing sense of despair. He gripped the edge of the sink, his knuckles white.