Gemotions

"Did you take out the trash, honey?" His mother's voice, laced with gentle exasperation, followed him up the stairs. The request, innocent enough, felt like a personal affront. It was a constant reminder of his perceived inadequacy.

He slammed the door to his room, the sound echoing through the house. He felt the familiar surge of frustration bubbling to the surface. He hated the way they tiptoed around him, how their every gesture felt like an attempt to placate him.

He sank onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling a profound sense of isolation. His old room, once a refuge, now felt like a prison. He felt a profound sense of injustice, like he'd been cheated.