Gemotions

The therapist's calm voice, the generic office decor, they both felt like some sort of cruel joke. He’d signed up for therapy because, well, he just couldn't sleep. The racing thoughts that had started last week, after finding out who his therapist would be, now followed him around all day.

He found it hard to focus. The simplest of tasks left him feeling exhausted. The doctor, she seemed intent on probing into the past, into the very part of his life that he wanted to forget. She was asking him questions about his childhood.

He felt a sudden panic, a visceral need to get away, to escape her measured, probing gaze. He was trapped.