Gemotions

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. John paced his small apartment. His essay, his words, were in a book that future students would read. He felt the blood pumping through his veins.

He stopped, abruptly, and grabbed his journal. He needed to write. Not about college applications, but about *everything*. He had ideas, thoughts, a fire burning inside of him. He needed to capture it, to put it down on paper.

His pen flew across the page, words spilling out in a torrent. He filled page after page, the words a raw expression of the emotions swelling inside of him. The world was his canvas.