Gemotions

She hunched over the laptop, the screen illuminating her face with an unflattering pallor. Each sentence she read from the published diary was a fresh blow. Her jaw clenched, and she could feel the familiar tension in her shoulders. The air in the tiny apartment felt thick, heavy with unspoken resentment.

The words, ripped from her teenage self, were now public. Each shared memory, each silly crush, each moment of insecurity exposed for the world to dissect. She pulled a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a futile gesture against the rising tide of shame.

A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she leaned back in her chair. The room spun around her. The world was suddenly a cruel place, and she felt desperately alone. She wanted to scream, to shatter the monitor, to erase the very existence of the words.