Emotional Closet Novels & Stories

Now Ezra was shaking his head in disappointment and sadness, almost. I felt like I was about to choke on a sob, my gut feeling like it was in my throat. "You're right, Ezra. I do shove away all my emotions and put my guard up and not let people in because I don't want to go through that bullshit again. You don't realize I stay up all night crying, I wake up almost every night in a cold sweat because I had a nightmare - even when I take the sleeping pills. Don't fucking act like I'm not dealing with it because I fucking am dealing with it. Just because I don't feel comfortable getting close to someone again, does not mean I'm not fucking coping." I shoved past him when once again, he stopped

I focused on my glass and built up my mental walls, my fake calm and stoic personality. No matter how close I feel we are right now, this is a part I’m unwilling to share. A part they can’t know, fearing it can be used against me at my weakest point at a crucial moment. I knew I could be cold; I knew most people back where I used to belong thought of me as a cold and emotionless person. I was not far from it, but it was my way of coping. The way I learned to protect myself and give myself time to think ahead, I got good at it. I was controlling my emotions, putting them away.

She didn't know what it was - maybe it was desperation, or anger, or fear - but she found a tiny spark of defiance. She got to her feet and walked over to the walk-in closet, pressing her body against the cool, wooden door. She couldn't face whatever Dmitry had in store for her. She couldn't let him control her anymore. With a deep breath, she reached up and fumbled with the knob, feeling it click open. The darkness inside the closet beckoned her, promising safety and solitude. She stepped inside and closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world.

“I don’t think it is. People express emotions in different ways. Doesn’t necessarily have to be through crying. Sometimes, what we feel is so overwhelming that even tears won’t suffice.” I know because I’ve been there. As a kid, I used to cry whenever I felt neglected by my parents, but it reached a stage where I stopped. Not because I ran out of tears or got tired of crying, but because I’d already developed a wound so deep that not even crying would heal it. “What if he doesn’t feel anything at all?” Nikolai goes on. “What if he’s buried his emotions so deep that all he feels is emptiness? Numbness? Would that make him a freak?”

" Tristan's voice was thick with tears by the time he was done speaking. However, I simply looked at him coldly while peeling his fingers away from my hands. "It's too late, Tristan," I said. "I've already left the closet, and I'm never going back inside ever again." Tristan had confessed his true feelings much too late.

I tossed my bag onto the chair near my desk before sitting slowly on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor for a few seconds. Everything suddenly felt emotionally loud. I hated that. Because after everything Stephen put me through, I wanted to feel completely done with him. I wanted to feel healed enough to look at him without my heart reacting at all. Instead, one conversation managed to drag old emotions back to the surface like they had been waiting for permission to return. I leaned back against my headboard and exhaled slowly, rubbing my fingers against my forehead. Maybe closure was overrated. Maybe some people never really left you properly.

The quietness makes the ache inside me stronger, but the warmth of those cherished times still lingers like a comforting hug that eases the sadness amidst the emptiness. The closed door to my father's office at the end of the hallway stands as a strong emotional barrier for me. This room is filled with memories of my experiences with him, bringing back a sense of nostalgia. As I approach the door, I feel a mix of hesitation and desire, as it represents both what I know and what I don’t. The emotions tied to opening this door reflect a complicated relationship with my past, which makes me hesitant to step inside.

I feel a possessive urge rise within me but I shut it out- "The only reason you're in this mess is because you shut out your true nature for too long," he argues. "Allow yourself to feel all of it. Your transformation mostly comes from strong emotions but everyone can guess you've been shutting that out," he accuses and casts in my way a judging stare. "Th-That's not true," I step forward, clutching the only piece of clothing tight around me. "I do have strong emotions." "Yes, like nonchalance and heartbreak."