Emotional Closet Novels & Stories

Finally, I removed my clothes and began hanging them up in the closet. I stood there angry, mumbling about how I felt and that I couldn't say or do anything about it all day! The thought of keeping my emotions locked away made me sad—the return of that painful lump developed in my throat again. I wanted to cry, but I had my pride. So I refused to let tears fall again! I had never felt so disrespected in all my life! It hurt that he didn't care a shred about me!

He peers into the closet, “were you sitting in your closet with the door closed?” I slowly rise to my feet, my mind whirling, trying to come up with an excuse. “I don’t…have to explain my methods of self-care to you,” I say, straightening my shoulders and raising my chin, putting on a mantle of pride to hide my panic. “If it pleases me to sit in my closet…then so be it.” God, why am I talking like I’m in a Shakespearean play? “Okay,” he says, shrugging and give me a weird look, putting his hands in his pockets. “Whatever works.”

“Yes, of course. It’s Snow” Of course it is, I thought sarcastically. “The password?” “Oh it’s accessible without one” I nodded my head and waited for her to leave. As soon as I heard the door close, I collapsed on the floor of the closet right away. I was barely holding myself together in front of them, it was so exhausting mentally, physically, and emotionally. A swirl of all negative emotions were racing to destroy me, to make me lose my mind and just huddle in the corner of the darkest place I could find inside my head, and just stay there… forever.

My pale face. I looked exhausted and broken. And suddenly something inside me snapped quietly. No. I refused to spend whatever time I had left crying over Vincent Hale. If he wouldn’t come to me emotionally… then maybe I needed to stop waiting for emotions entirely. Slowly, I walked back toward my closet. My eyes finally landed on a tiny pair of shorts hidden near the back and a tube top that exposed almost everything Vincent spent years pretending not to notice. My heart raced nervously while changing into them.

The last few weeks had me embarking on a slow and tedious up and up. Before that day when Emma essentially broke into my apartment, I hadn’t realised just how much energy I spent trying to emotionally mute myself so I could put up a strong front for everyone else. Including my friends. Emma has known me my entire life. I don’t know why I felt the need for the performance with her. But she let me know that it is something I’ve done for most of the time that she has known me. Emotionally shut down and refuse to acknowledge that I even had them.

he pleaded, taking a tentative step forward. "I am." "And I know the financials look terrible—" "They are terrible." "But you're incredibly emotional right now, El. We need to sleep on this." I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second. Emotional. There it was—the oldest, most reliable weapon in a manipulative man's arsenal. I wasn't a doctor tracking a paper trail; I wasn't a mother protecting her child. I was just an *emotional woman* overreacting. I opened my eyes, and the final trace of hesitation evaporated.

I stood there breathing hard while emotions crashed violently through my chest all at once because the horrifying part was that some tiny damaged part of me actually wanted Adrian to be telling the truth. Wanted there to be some reason I spent my whole life feeling disconnected from everybody else. Some explanation beyond just being fundamentally difficult to love. That realization made me feel sick immediately. “Nope.” I muttered aloud. “Absolutely not unpacking that emotionally tonight.” I marched toward the closet instantly. If I stayed here any longer, I was going to lose my mind completely. I yanked my small suitcase from the corner before throwing it onto the bed aggressively. Done. Ab

she said casually, “I know how hard breakups can be. Especially the… unfinished kind.” I almost stopped walking. I turned to her slowly. “Breakup?” She blinked. “Well, whatever you want to call it.” “I didn’t break up with anyone.” She hummed. “Emotionally you did.” “That’s not a thing.” “It is when you’re suffering,” she said simply. I looked away. She continued like she hadn’t noticed my discomfort. “You should do a cleansing ritual.” I stared at her. “A what?” “A cleansing ritual,” she repeated, like it was obvious. “You know. Closure. Reset. Burn something symbolic. Cry. Release emotional attachment.”

I felt fresh hatred grow as I heard the man moan with every touch. I should be the one moaning at his touch, not some dude who looks like he has never been kissed in his life. “Desperate fool,” I cursed under my breath as I sobbed silently. The closet was becoming more and more uncomfortable, making it hard for me to breathe. Should I come out and stop this? I thought to myself. “What if Nicholas punishes me for this? I bit my lower lips painfully, knowing I couldn’t come out now. And as I tried to adjust my legs again, I slipped and fell out of the closet, hitting my shoulder on the floor.

The door slams shut leaving me alone in the room. My eyes widen in alarm as my stomach churns and I throw up the breakfast I had this morning. -- Gia: The ride back home is quiet. People say anger is one of the strongest emotions, but I don’t agree. Silence is. Being silent means you have been robbed of all your emotions, it means numbness. At that moment, you don’t feel anything. Not even anger, pain, sadness. You just feel...empty.