Gemotions

The support group meeting felt like a waste of time. He sat in the back, avoiding eye contact, the forced camaraderie grating on his nerves. He hated the forced positivity, the cloying platitudes. He felt utterly alone, trapped in a solitary confinement of his own body. He wanted to vanish.

A woman sat down next to him, her movements slow and deliberate. She leaned closer, her voice barely audible over the chatter. "It’s hard, isn't it? Really hard," she said, her gaze meeting his. "I understand. I am also here because of the eye sensitivity and tremors."