Emotional Closet Novels & Stories

"Who are you?" Sarah smiled gently, "Hello, ma'am. I'm your psychological counselor." "But isn't this an emotion release room?" "Yes, but emotional release is just a way to make yourself feel less tired and less sad. The real issue is still psychological. The feelings are only temporarily suppressed, not truly resolved." It was like crossing a bridge—a submerged bridge on your necessary path. You could choose to wade through with wet shoes, but you couldn't always walk around with wet shoes. The woman sat down nervously, her eyes darting around insecurely.

It could even pass off as a gown. I needed to think about what I was going to do about the way I was feeling. I looked around the closet and it was filled with expensive things like wristwatches and rings.. They all had the way they were arranged. Maybe I was stalling, maybe I just don't want to see him yet. A part of me doesn't want to step out of the room just yet. I don't want to see the disdainful or irritated look on his face yet. So I just focused on the closet like it was an important task and not a mundane one.

He mumbled and closed his eyes, hiding any emotion I could read from both me and the rest of the world; Emrys had never talked about volunteering to go to counseling ever, no matter what, and I remember once my then mother -who’s actually my sister which I still have had no contact with- had suggested to him that a counselor could and would help, but Emrys threw such a fit about it that my also fake dad had made him sleep elsewhere for four nights in a row… Now I realize Emrys had probably bunked with Laker or even Anton for those nights. Emrys hated when emotions were involved, I always thought he was scared to let people in because when people are inside, they could shatter you quicker tha

“It’s not… we don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. We don’t want you in any discomfort and we don’t want to pry-“ Emmet began. “Well I do,” Lila interjected. “Well, I don’t to pry, but bottling things up won’t help anyone, and we don’t want you to get hurt because there’s no viable outlet for all your bottled up emotions,” Emmet tried to explain, Lila nodding vigorously and cartoonishly from the side.

It was only a matter of time before someone added the mentos to the coke to watch it explode. That's why all of this is unfair. When my emotions build up, I'm supposed to take pills to stuff them down and turn them off. Hiding is all I know, not even Rosa has seen me cry before. I hide under the bleachers by the football stadium. I decide to skip study hall, no one will find me out here. The tears start to spill and I can let my emotions fly, in the comfort of my own bubble. A hand offers me a towel. "Here you go, Emma. You might need this. Are you okay?"

He ushered her out of the garage, leading her into an enormous duplex within the compound. Whenever Joel was furious, he would lock himself in one of the rooms in the duplex, drowning his sorrows in smoking and drinking. It took only Danielle's persistent pleas to bring him out whenever such happened. Part of the duplex served as a wardrobe, or rather, a closet. Joel guided Emily inside, inputting a passcode before leading her up the stairs. As she stepped into the closet, Emily couldn't help but gasp in awe. It was three times the size of her father's house. The closet was filled with designer shoes, bags, clothes, and an array of jewelry from Empire World.

The moment I entered my room, the mask I'd worn for so long slipped. The weight of emotion pressing down on me. I closed the door behind me, leaning against it as I tried to ground myself. But it wasn't enough. Not when I felt like a storm was raging in my chest. My legs gave out, and I sank to the floor, cradling my knees to my chest as I struggled to breathe. I’d held it all in for too long. I pushed all my emotions away so I could be strong, for the people I led and for my children and for myself.

So she lay still, clutching the pillow as if it could hold her together, keeping everything inside because to let it out would break her completely. And she couldn’t afford to break. Not now. . . Morning came with pale sunlight filtering through the curtains. Emery moved quietly, her motions deliberate, careful. She waited until Ethan had gone to school with the driver, until the staff was busy with chores. Then, she opened her wardrobe. Her hands trembled as she pulled out clothes neatly folding each one, placing them into the suitcase she had hidden at the back of the closet. Each fold felt final. Each item she packed was a goodbye.

Is it the closeness itself that frightens you, or the person the closeness makes you? He said it carefully, the way he said things he had been thinking about for a while. Because I have been watching you for five years and the closeness has not broken you. The closeness with me, the closeness with your clients in the work, the closeness you have allowed with Marcus and with Priya and with your family. He paused. You are not afraid of closeness. You are afraid of what you will find in yourself when the closeness is complete. The

I didn’t stop until I reached the pack house and slipped into the narrow confines of my small, hidden room—a forgotten storage closet that I had quietly claimed for myself. It was a cramped space, so small that three people couldn’t stand comfortably side by side, but it was a place to hide, to be alone. The old bed had once been thrown away by a pack member. I’d pulled it from the trash, cleaned it up, and made it mine. I lay down on the bed, curling in on myself as tears I’d tried so hard to keep in check finally broke free. Emotions I couldn’t control crashed over me, wave after wave, and I felt myself unraveling.