Gemotions

He sat at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor on a blank screen. The words wouldn’t come. The very act of writing felt like an impossible task. The rejection had stolen his voice, his creativity, his reason for being.

He pushed his chair back, the screech echoing in the empty room. He hadn't left the house in days. The pizza boxes and coffee cups cluttered the floor. He hadn’t felt the urge to eat or clean.

The thought of going out, of facing the world, filled him with dread. He felt disconnected, adrift. His world had become a monochrome landscape. He wondered if he’d ever feel like himself again.