Gemotions

The weight of the past pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. The boxes in the spare bedroom felt like a mountain. Each assignment felt like a burden.

I pulled out a faded creative writing assignment. The words, my words, felt alien and vulnerable. They weren’t nearly as good as I remembered them being. I felt a surge of embarrassment.

I read a few lines, then quickly stopped. I was afraid of what I would see. My throat constricted. A bead of sweat trickled down my temple. I was exhausted.

I pushed the box away. The desire to flee from the room was overwhelming. I fled.