Gemotions

The silence of the empty art studio was deafening. I stared at the canvas, the blank white surface mocking my creative paralysis. The news had shattered my concentration, my motivation. The scholarship, my lifeline, vanished. I hadn't even begun to consider how I would continue my studies.

My hands felt clammy. I felt a sharp, stabbing feeling in my chest. The brushes lay scattered on the table, the paints untouched. I felt the slow burn of resentment building inside me. All this hard work, all the sacrifices – for what? I threw the paintbrush across the room and it landed with a dull thud.