Gemotions

He slumped onto his worn couch, the laptop balanced precariously on his knees. A friend had texted him the link, a nasty little thrill in their message. He’d poured his heart out in that diary, every fragile hope and crushing disappointment laid bare. His throat constricted, a physical manifestation of the dread that coiled within him. He was completely stuck.

Each comment on the online blog felt like a punch. He wanted to delete it all, erase the evidence of his past, but the thought of facing the consequences, the inevitable backlash… he froze. He found himself dialing his therapist’s number.

The soothing voice on the other end was a comfort, a calm harbor in the storm. He just needed someone to tell him what to do, how to make it all stop. The anxiety was crippling. He couldn't make any decisions on his own; not now, not ever.