Gemotions

He stared at the blank canvas, the white expanse mirroring the emptiness he felt inside. The art project, a self-portrait, felt like a cruel joke. He couldn't even bring himself to look at himself in the mirror. He'd been battling the same creative block for weeks, and the frustration was eating at him. The smell of turpentine in the studio felt particularly acrid today.

A ping. Ms. Ramirez, the art teacher, had requested to follow him on Pinterest. He bit his lip. His Pinterest was a repository of half-finished projects, mood boards he’d never actually use, and a secret board filled with images of things he wished he could create. Suddenly, he was self-conscious. Every pin felt like a confession.

“Okay, let’s get started,” Ms. Ramirez said, her voice echoing in the silent room. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to run.