Gemotions

The silence in the house was deafening. John sat on the porch, a barely-touched cup of coffee growing cold beside him. He stared at the hills in the distance, seeing nothing. His manuscript, the culmination of years of work, was deemed unworthy.

He felt a deep sense of inadequacy, a feeling that clawed at him from the inside. He thought of all the time, the effort, the sacrifices he'd made. It felt like a waste. His confidence, once a sturdy pillar, now seemed fragile, easily shattered. The sun, once a comfort, felt harsh on his skin.

He wished he could simply vanish.