Gemotions

The digital publication of his teenage diary had sucker-punched Mark, leaving him gasping for air. He was curled up on the couch, the laptop balanced precariously on his knees. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, re-reading the entries.

He felt a throbbing ache in his temples, a pressure that intensified with each paragraph. He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots. His breath came in ragged gasps. He wanted to turn away, to erase the words, to somehow undo this reality, but he was stuck.

He looked around the room, at the familiar furniture, the posters on the wall. They seemed unfamiliar, as if they were alien and judgmental. The air felt thick, heavy with the weight of exposure. He stood up, knocking over the coffee table in his haste to escape, and went to the bathroom, and stared at his reflection, the image unrecognisable.