Gemotions

"Oh, *great*," Maya muttered, staring at the screen. The announcement email was still open in a tab, its cheerful font mocking her. She was sprawled across her bed, the covers pulled up around her ears, as if trying to physically disappear. The air in her room felt thick and stale, heavy with the scent of unwashed laundry.

Her application essay, "The Symphony of Silence," was chosen as a model. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her, a feeling like she'd just run a marathon. She'd written about her grandmother, about grief, about the power of music. Now, the emotions felt distant, like relics of a past self.

She didn't want to celebrate. She didn't want to analyze. She just wanted to be alone, to lie still and avoid any kind of feeling. The essay's success was like being praised for a performance she no longer recognized.