A chill snaked up Elias’s spine as he scrolled. There it was. His application essay. Flawless, a relic of a younger, more ambitious self, now plastered across the university’s admissions website as a shining exemplar. He slammed his laptop shut, the abrupt click echoing in his sterile apartment. He paced, the worn carpet offering little comfort to his restless feet. The words, once so carefully chosen, now felt like a spotlight, exposing every flaw. He grabbed a glass of water, his hand trembling so badly, he sloshed it over the side.
He considered calling his parents, but the thought withered on his tongue. They'd be ecstatic. Proud. And he couldn’t bear to hear it. He pulled his hoodie tighter, hiding from the digital gaze, the judgmental glow of his past self. He longed for the days when the biggest worry was a poorly written paragraph, not this unrelenting scrutiny.
The silence pressed down, heavy and suffocating. He needed an escape. He looked at the unopened textbooks, the syllabus promising a difficult semester, and felt something inside him clench. He didn't think he could face the classroom, not with that essay staring back at him from the future.