Gemotions

He dragged himself through the library doors, the heavy oak feeling like a physical burden. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a sound that drilled into his temples. He needed to find a quiet corner, somewhere to collapse for a few minutes before his next class. Lately, the simplest tasks felt like monumental efforts. He gripped his water bottle, the plastic cold and slick against his clammy hand. The weight of his textbooks in his bag seemed to double with every step.

He found it, buried deep in a dusty academic journal. The cover read, “Exceptional Admissions Essays, Volume III.” He had stopped searching for himself long ago. Still, his name, his high school, the familiar title he had used, leaped out from the page. He felt his face flush hot, then cold. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that did little to untangle the knots in his stomach. The words, his words, seemed foreign and distant.