Gemotions

The attic air felt oppressive, the silence punctuated only by the scuttling of unseen creatures. Emily felt the familiar tension as she pushed open the creaking door. It would have been better if she had done this a long time ago. She’d let everything go, she thought, including herself.

She found a collection of old sketchbooks filled with vibrant artwork. She flipped through the pages, stunned by the talent and creativity. She’d always considered herself unartistic, and the work of the previous occupant only served to reinforce her self-doubt. She felt her face burn.

She came across a carefully preserved diary, filled with observations and reflections. She could barely manage a grocery list, let alone a journal of such depth. She hated this feeling, this constant comparison, this unyielding sense of inadequacy.