Gemotions

He paced his tiny dorm room, the worn rug underfoot offering no solace. The essay, the one that held his story of loss and resilience, was now the featured piece on the university’s website. He thought about how the words flowed, how he worked on it. He thought about his heart feeling so hollow. His hands trembled.

He reread his essay, once more. The carefully chosen words now seemed to mock him, the sentimentality grating on his raw nerves. He hated it. He hated them. He hated everything.

He sat on his bed, his back against the wall, and stared at the door. He didn’t want to leave, but he also didn’t want to be here. He felt so exposed, and vulnerable, like he was standing in a field in the middle of a storm.