Gemotions

The ramen tasted like cardboard, but she ate it anyway, hunched over the tiny desk in her dorm room. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, a persistent drone that mirrored the emptiness inside her. She hadn’t spoken to anyone all day, and the silence felt heavy, a thick blanket suffocating the space around her. Across the room, her roommate, Sarah, was blasting music through her headphones, oblivious.

A week ago, she’d written in her journal about her struggles to fit in, the awkwardness she felt in every social situation. Now, seeing Sarah’s knowing glance as she came in the door, a red flush bloomed on her cheeks. Sarah gave a small, apologetic smile and turned back to her books.

That night, sleep eluded her. She stared at the ceiling, the shadows of the unfamiliar room stretching and contorting. She felt a profound sense of isolation, a chasm separating her from everyone.