Gemotions

Maya stared at the open laptop, the words blurring on the screen. It was her application essay, the one she’d poured her heart into, now a highlighted example on the university website. A wave of nausea rolled through her, a familiar discomfort she'd been experiencing since graduating and landing back in her childhood bedroom. She felt like she was wading through molasses.

She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face. It was the same gesture she made when she was overwhelmed as a child, the one she’d hoped she’d outgrown. The pristine white walls of her room seemed to close in, and a sudden, urgent desire for fresh air clawed at her throat.

"Well, this is just great," she muttered to the empty room. Her voice sounded thin, almost lost. The irony wasn't lost on her. The essay had been about breaking free, about charting her own course. Now, it was a relic of a past self, displayed for all to see while she felt anchored in place.

She slammed the laptop shut. Maybe she'd call her friend Sarah. Or maybe she would just stay in bed and watch daytime television.