Gemotions

He slammed his textbook shut, the sound echoing in the empty dorm room. Liam kicked at the base of his desk, the flimsy wood offering little resistance. He paced the small space, each stride a measure of his frustration. The professor's comment about “lacking depth” on the essay played on repeat in his mind, a stinging rebuke. A wave of heat flushed his face, and he ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. He couldn't seem to do anything right, not lately. He slumped onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling an oppressive sense of emptiness. He was so tired of trying.