Gemotions

Mark paced his cramped bedroom, the worn carpet offering little comfort to his restless feet. Each step was a measured rhythm mirroring his internal discord. The emails kept coming, each one a fresh wave of panic. His diary, the one he swore he would burn when he was older, was now making the rounds on social media.

He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, feeling the strands catch on his fingers. He hadn't eaten all day. The thought of food made his stomach churn.

"This can't be happening," he rasped, his voice sounding foreign in his own ears. He slumped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, the images and words swimming before his eyes.