Gemotions

She spent the morning staring out of her window. The city bustled below, but the vibrancy seemed distant, almost a trick of the light. She was a ghost, unable to connect to the noise or the motion.

The diary was a living thing. A poison that continued to infect the world around her. She felt like she was trapped in a glass cage, everyone outside able to gaze and laugh.

The coffee grew cold in her cup. She wanted to yell, to scream, to lash out, but the energy was gone. She only felt a profound sense of sadness. She got into bed, pulled the covers over her head, and waited.