Gemotions

He hadn't cleaned his side of the room in weeks. Dirty clothes piled up on the floor, empty energy drink cans cluttered the desk. Sunlight streamed through the window, highlighting the dust motes dancing in the air, a perfect metaphor for his own internal state.

The journal lay open on his bed, the pages dog-eared at a specific entry. He'd seen his roommate, Ben, surreptitiously glancing at it when he thought he wasn’t looking. Every shared glance felt like a betrayal.

“Dude, sorry about…” Ben began, his voice barely audible. He looked genuinely embarrassed.

“It’s fine,” he lied, but the words felt hollow and meaningless, echoing the emptiness within him. The world had lost its colour.