Gemotions

The attic's gloom swallowed Liam whole. He really should have done this ages ago. He’d known it, and he hadn't. Now, he was paying the price. The physical space mirrored his own cluttered mental state, a testament to his shortcomings.

He found a collection of neatly pressed clothes, still smelling faintly of lavender. He, on the other hand, had a pile of dirty laundry that seemed to multiply overnight. He felt a hot flush crawl up his neck as he imagined the previous resident, taking pride in his appearance.

He discovered a stack of beautifully written poems, each one filled with lyrical descriptions of the world. He, who struggled to write a grocery list, felt a sudden and intense sense of… inadequacy. He kicked a discarded box across the floor.