Gemotions

"Look, honey!" his mother had said, showing him the glossy magazine. "Aren't you famous?" The headline was too large, the font too assertive. He tried to smile, but the muscles in his face wouldn’t cooperate. Inside, he felt a crushing sensation.

He excused himself, claiming a headache. He went to his room, locking the door behind him. He sat on the bed, staring at his reflection in the mirror. He barely recognized the person staring back. The eyes were hollow, the expression strained.

He was trapped. He felt like he was suffocating in his own skin. Every laugh, every glance, every conversation – he envisioned people reading the essay and judging him. He hated it. He could hear his mother's excited voice downstairs, and the sound grated on him. He considered leaving.