Gemotions

The sun was streaming through the window, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. His essay, now a shining example of admissions prowess, made him feel like a ghost. He was there, but he wasn't.

He slowly walked over to the window and stared out at the bustling city below. Everyone was rushing, going somewhere, doing something. He felt like he was observing the world through a glass darkly.

He picked at his breakfast, the food tasteless in his mouth. He felt the weight of expectations pressing down on him, a stifling pressure. He had ideas, but they were trapped, unable to take form. He felt as if he could not connect to anything real.